Prophecy
by Narnian Sprite
Summary: A group of young fans find themselves dragged into the stories that they have always loved, but Sauron has plans for them... plans to change everything. They are now prophets, and the world is perilous. Some shipping in later chapters, rated for violence.
1. Leaving

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters, places or events therein. Translation, I own no part in any way shape or form of The Lord of the Rings. I do however call ownership of Jaden, Leigh, Maylin, Jack and Sean

Author's note: I have done everything in my power to keep this fic from becoming cheesy, and there is an explaination in later chapters of how they arrived in Middle-Earth, so hopefully that should help a bit. There should be more of a Narnia feel to this story than a Kid in King Arthur's Court feeling. Enjoy!

Leaving

The sun was beaming down on the scene below her with a sweet smile of gentle warmth from her caressing beams. The earth seemed to bubble with carefree happiness in mirror image to the humans who walked on it's surface above. Winds swept playfully through the grass, encouraging it to play and dance along with it, and wondering why the grass did not follow. A few ambitious clouds chased each other across the sky in a breezy game of tag. A daisy nodded at the field around it, as a king would nod in approval of his subjects gathered before him.

Jaden kicked casually at the hard packed dirt in front of her. The day was far beyond pleasant, but there was one thing that would make it perfect... She sighed and looked up as a pack of giggling fairies walked by, kicking up a floating cloud of dust in their wake. The low, rough, wooden bench was starting to become uncomfortable and she glanced about for another possible roost that she could perch on during her long, long wait. In agitation, Jaden fiddled with the laces on her hooded jacket.

"What's keeping her so long?" Maylin asked from the bench.

"Who knows?" Jaden shrugged. "Your costume looks nice."

It really did, too. MayLin had decided to go all out for her costume this time and it had paid off. Loose white sleeves fluttered around her thin arms in stark contrast to the deep blue of her knee-length cloak. For the first time in who knew how many years, she wasn't wearing a skirt but was instead clothed in trousers befitting a warrior. It had been unanimously decided that all of the girls needed a break from dragging the blasted skirts over all of the fair ground all day long. They also made it impossible to play some of the better games there.

"Hmmm," Maylin acknowledged. "Thanks. I haven't seen Leigh's yet, have you?" Jaden shook her head.

"Nope, have you, Jack?" she asked in turn.

"What?" the boy asked, jerking his head up from his close inspection of the ground.

"Leigh's costume," Jaden repeated. "Ya seen it?"

"Nope."

"I say that we should throw Jack into the jousting ring this year," Maylin mused.

"What!"

"At least we know now that you're paying attention," she laughed. "Don't worry, I don't want to be thrown out."

"Good," Jaden said. "Neither do I."

"Our long lost friend has appeared," Jack said, nodding toward an approaching couple.

"She's WITH someone," Maylin arched an eyebrow, making her look like a Vulcan with her prosthetic points on her ears.

The young woman approaching waved at them as the wind picked up her full length cloak and played with it like a child's toy. Beneath the billowing cloak a duster-like surcoat was visible above a dark green shirt. She grinned and batted at her long hair that the wind now threw in her face in a kind of game.

"Maylin, Jaden, Jack," Leigh grinned.

"Leigh," Maylin replied a little tartly.

"Oh, don't be mad," Leigh insisted. "I was unavoidable detained."

"By a certain young man I take it?" Jaden teased. Leigh rolled her eyes.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she laughed. "We met in the ticket line to get in. He's a fellow LOTR junkie, and his pals didn't want to come so... I said he could hang out with us."

"A fellow junkie?" Jaden hooted. "You're my friend! I'm Jaden, the Elf is Maylin, and the guy is Jack."

"Pleased to meet you," the new-comer said. "I'm Sean Thomas."

"Oh, formal now are we?"

"Not really no," he laughed.

"Good," Maylin grinned.

"Formality makes us nervous," Jaden joked.

Leigh walked along in the cheerful sunshine beside Maylin as they trekked to the games area. This year's festival seemed to be even better than the years previous, of course that might just be the affect of the intoxicating sunshine and pleasant heat it distributed. Then again, it could be delight in her still new-come freedom as a first year college student. She glanced at her friends around her. Maylin was the oldest by three years, making her a grand, old twenty-one, Jaden was a senior in high school this year and owned an impressive seventeen years, and of course Jack, who owned a simple fifteen years. Then there was this Sean...

"You're not mad at me for inviting Sean to join us are you?" she asked Maylin concernedly.

"Nah," Maylin shrugged. "At least now Jack has a guy to hand out with, and besides, he likes The Lord of the Rings, he's gotta be a great guy, right?"

"Exactly."

"Oooo! Look, look!" Jaden bounced, pointing to two guys dueling it out on a log with straw-filled pillows. "I wanna do THAT! Who wants to fight me?" She whirled around and scanned her companions to see if there were any raised hands.

Jack raised his. "I'll go!" he exclaimed.

"She'll beat you to pieces, Jack," Leigh laughed. "You're too skinny to go up against her, she's got some muscle."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jaden sniffed as she paid the game-keeper. "Now, Jack... have at 'ee!" She swung her weapon around her in a wide sweep that was pretty much guaranteed to hit something, even if it wasn't her opponent.

"Hey!" Leigh yelled, taking cover. "Easy on the civilians!" Jaden didn't even bother acknowledging the command, she just kept swinging and ducking and trying to keep from being knocked off the log.

"Well those two have found something to do," Maylin said as she turned around to face Leigh and Sean. "What so we want to do?"

"Archery is always a fun game," Leigh pointed out. "But I feel like trying my luck trying to hit the fool this year."

Maylin grinned wolfishly, she had always wanted to hit the fool. He sat behind a large board that declared 'food on fool' which was rather self explanatory. Even without the board though, there were enough insults thrown into the crowd by the fool that pretty much everyone already knew what they were supposed to do with the nice, mushy veggies that were laid out for throwing. It was actually rather difficult to hit the guy though, due to the distance between the throwing line and the fool. "Sounds good to me," she agreed. "I owe him big time."

"Doesn't just about everyone?" Sean laughed.

"Too true, too true," Maylin agreed.

"Hey!" Leigh yelled at the dueling duo. "We'll be throwing food at the fool! Come there when you're done!" Jaden gave a slight nod, which Jack took advantage of to give her a solid whack on the side of the head.

A small crowd was gathered around the game. The cocky fool called out insults to passerby who turned to their boyfriends and demanded that they deal vengeance on the offending party. This resulted in a rather long line that very rarely grew short. It was a rather good marketing tactic actually.

"Hey! Blondie!" the fool shouted toward them. Leigh kept walking toward the throwing mark like she hadn't even heard him. "Oh, yeah, act like you don't hear me! I'll bet you..."

Leigh grinned with fiendish delight as the squishy tomato splattered across the fool's face, mid-sentence, which she was sure meant that at least some of it had gotten into his mouth.

"Vegetable vengeance!" Sean hooted.

Leigh grinned and wiped her hand off on the grass. "I've been practicing that for years," she laughed. "Looks like it all finally paid off."

"Hello again!" Jack called as he and Jaden walked up.

"Who won?" Maylin asked. Jack bowed his head and pointed at Jaden who whooped and pumped her fist in the air in triumph.

"Same question," Jaden asked. "Who won? You or the fool?"

"We did," Sean laughed. "I splattered him pretty good, Maylin nailed his forehead, and Leigh hit his mouth... while it was open."

"Oh, awesome!" Jack cheered, high-fiving each of the victors. "He had it coming."

"Yes."

Suddenly a cloud passed over the sun, blocking it's light and heat. Jaden shivered. Leigh looked up and frowned. She glanced at Maylin who returned her look with a frown.

"Um, did anyone else notice that it suddenly seemed to get... colder, like really fast?" Jack asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Sean nodded. "But's more than just cold... it feels almost... evil."

"You guys are creeping me out, here," Jaden said, trying to lighten the mood or at least change the subject.

"I'm creeping myself out," Leigh laughed.

"Who's hungry?" Maylin asked.

"Me!" Jack and Jaden exclaimed at the same time.

"Turkey legs or beef stew bread bowls?" Sean asked, moving off toward the food section.

"Hey, wait!" Jaden yelled. "I know a short cut!"

"You know a short cut that we don't?" Maylin asked.

"Yeah, I found it a year or two ago when I got here early."

"You got here early?" Leigh teased.

"No comment."

From the moment that they turned into the alley, all five knew that something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. The air seemed to drop far more than was natural and freeze their lungs with icy terror. There were only two entrances to the alley, the one they had entered by, and the one straight ahead... that was blocked by a fear inspiring creature shrouded completely in black. The thing raised what might have normally been its head except that... there was nothing there.

Maylin grabbed onto Leigh's arm, who stood staring blankly ahead. "Nazgul," she gasped.

"Run!" Jaden screamed, trying to pull her friends back out into the world that had been normal a few precious moments ago. But even as they turned, the walls literally closed in behind them.

Leigh grabbed for the knife that she carried in her hip-sheath. As her hand moved toward the blade, the Ringwraith raised his hand and called out in black speech.

The world, no, the universe went black, dark and cold. No stars, no moon, no sun, nothing to bring even a faint light into the dark that engulfed them. Jack could feel his friends around him and tried to reach for them, but they were like specters in a heavy mist, impossible to lay hold of. A dim light gleamed in the distance, and he moved toward it like a moth to the flame. As he reached it, he knew that the wraith was there, waiting for them to come to the light. But he didn't care, he had to reach the light, had to feel it shining on his face...

"Are we dead?" a blurry face asked beside Jaden.

"If this is Heaven," she moaned, "I think we got ripped off."

A gruff chuckle answered her comment.

"You need not worry about that," the chuckling voice grated in answer. "Welcome to Middle-Earth."

"Middle-Earth?... What the..." Sean gasped, sitting up to see the others doing the same around him. His jaw nearly reached his chest as he saw the creature addressing them: a large, especially ugly orc.

"Hey," the orc frowned. "There were only supposed to be four of them. Three women and a boy, our master said. HE," here he pointed at Sean with his sword. "Was not mentioned."

"An unexpected guest," another orc grunted. "What's the matter? Forget how we deal with unexpected guests?"

"No," the other frowned. "But our master said..."

"That the women and boy were not to be touched," the second pointed out. "He didn't say anything about any young men that appeared..."

"Oh," the first one grinned. "Well then..." he jerked out his sword and swiftly ran Sean through.

"SEAN!" Leigh screamed. She fought feverishly against the ropes tied around her wrists and ankles in an attempt to reach her wounded friend.

Sean didn't even blink, he had forgotten how. The pain was real, but it didn't make sense to him. He was getting sleepy and dimly remembered that it was due to severe loss of blood. Then he thought no more of his wound, or anything else.

"Oh, man, oh, man..." Jaden stammered, staring at the limp body that had so recently been a living, breathing person who she had spoken with.

"This isn't real," Jack muttered. "This isn't real."

Leigh and Maylin looked at each other in mutual horror. They both knew the truth. This was real, they were the prisoners of orcs, and Sean had just died.

The Last Word: Did you like it? Did you hate it? Please do me the great honor of pushing the little reply button and giving me some feedback! Thank you!


	2. The Art of Survival and Cooperation

The Art of Survival and Cooperation

Leigh's chief concerns at the moment were very simple: try and get warm, try to find something growing within reach that she could eat, and keep herself and her friends alive. Oh, yes, and it would be great to escape before these 'guys' could take them to someplace big nasty and evil, namely, Barad-dur. It had been a pleasant surprise to realize that their only bonds were on their wrists and ankles and that all of them were made of rope. If they had been chained, that could have made things even more difficult. In such a situation as she found herself in, she found that, for the first time in her life, she was grateful for those sharp little rocks that seem magnetically drawn to the sleeping bags of innocent campers.

A hiss escaped her lips as the ropes rubbed roughly against the nasty wounds they had created on her wrists. Of course, rubbing them like she was doing probably didn't exactly help the situation. Consenting to the price of severe rope burn in exchange for freedom, she continued rubbing the rock against her bonds.

Apparently it was the popular belief that the troop knew nothing in the way of survival skills. If any stock had been taken in their being able to take care of themselves in this strange world they would have been far more securely tied, and there would undoubtedly be more than two orcs guarding them, no matter how big they were. Even though they had remembered to take her knife, Leigh saw no reason that they couldn't escape if they worked together. Maylin began to aid her in any way she could, passing the word along to the others to be ready to move, and gathering ideas on how to take out the orcs that were their jailers at the moment.

"How much longer?" Maylin asked.

"I should be done by evening," she whispered in reply. "Maylin... we'll have to kill those orcs."

"KILL?" she gasped. "How are we going to take out two big orcs? You don't even have your knife anymore."

"That's why I asked you to gather ideas for me, I've been kinda busy trying to not slit my own wrists or do more damage than absolutely necessary."

"Sorry."

"No, I am," Leigh sighed. "This is grating on my nerves here just a little bit."

"It's ok," Maylin replied. "Jaden suggested rocks... big ones."

"Ew," Leigh wrinkled her nose. "And you all say that I have a gory imagination! I guess that's what we'll have to do... or wait a minute..."

"What? What did you think of?"

"We might be able to just sneak off," she murmured.

"Sure, but then they'd try to track us."

"We could use that stream," Leigh nodded toward it. "All we have to do is wait for those two to go to sleep, and we can just run off using the stream to wash away our tracks. Very old trick."

"Maybe here it's a new trick," Maylin shrugged. "I think I'm willing to give it a try, and I know that the other two will do anything to avoid a fight with the orcs."

"It's a plan then," Leigh affirmed. "One last thing... my wrists are going to be a nice, bloody mess when I'm done here, and they'll be open to infection without some kind of healing plant or whatever. So we need to head for a town or something like that, where we can get help."

"While I see what you mean," Jaden spoke up from the other side of Mayiln. "I don't have the foggiest idea where we are. Do either of you? Well then, how are we supposed to get anywhere but lost?"

"Luck," Leigh muttered. "Pure, dumb luck."

"That is NOT reassuring," Maylin hissed.

"Tell me about it."

The water that splashed around Jaden's ankles was icy cold. While she saw the purpose of what they were doing, she desperately wished that there had been some warmer way to escape. It was so chilly out, that she was grateful that the water wasn't frozen over, that would have presented a major problem, and then they would probably have had to kill an orc or two to get away. Silently, she prayed that they found someplace where there were other people that could help them and possibly protect them from the orcs who would at least attempt hot pursuit. They must really think that they were dumb... at least orcs weren't known for their intellectual abilities.

Leigh had been wrong about her wrist... it didn't just hurt, it felt like they were on fire. Every time she bumped against something or someone in the dark, she hissed in pain and every time hoped that no one had heard the exclamation. Maybe they would reach someplace with a healer soon...

Winters had never been Jack's thing. He liked warm sun and cool swimming pools, and even in wintertime, he was always warm indoors. Really, this probably wasn't even winter, but it was NOT summer and they were fairly far to the North, that much he knew.

Part of him felt like Sam had: he wanted to see the Elves, and the Hobbits, and Dwarves and all the other races that populated Middle-Earth. The other side of him remembered that a guy had just been run through in front of him, he was on the run from orcs, he had no weapon, his friend was hurt, and no one had any idea where they were.

Maylin shivered as some animal splashed by the shore. Every sound made her jump now, she reminded herself that she did have a good excuse, considering that there were countless creatures there that would just love to kill her. Since she had been a kid, she had always gotten over her fear of the dark by reminding herself that the Elves were born under the stars with no moon and certainly no sun. Well, at the moment that wasn't helping very much.

"Leigh," Maylin said. "I've been thinking... you know... about why that Nazgul brought us here. Leigh, I think that Sauron knows about our world, knows that people there know how the story ends."

"And he's using us to find out where everyone is when," Leigh mused.

"Exactly," Maylin nodded. "Think about it. We could say who each of the Elven rings belongs to, where each of those bearers are at the moment, where the One is, who has the One, who and/or what is protecting the ringbearer... the list goes on and on..."

"So we absolutely cannot let ourselves be captured," Leigh muttered.

"If we do," Maylin paused. "Middle-Earth is lost for good. The One will be found, Aragorn will be killed, all of the Elves will be massacred..."

"Oh, boy. The question is then: what do we do with ourselves?"

"Good point," Maylin agreed. "We've already changed the story just by being here, and I don't think that we can play cat and mouse for the rest of the story without being caught before Frodo reaches Mount Doom."

"We have to find Rivendell," Leigh muttered. "Either that or just try to find the Hobbits and Aragorn, which is very close to impossible."

"That's just great," Jaden spoke up from the rear. "Don't we have to know things like where we are first to determine how to get somewhere else?"

"Yeah."

"We're in big trouble, aren't we?" Jack asked. Nobody bothered answering.

They continued moving until sunrise, counting on the orcs' dislike of sunlight to keep them at bay until nightfall. One thought and feeling was shared mutually among the weary escapees: hunger. Besides that there were varying degrees of frozen toes and fingers, and, in Leigh's case, troublesome pain. By the time it was thought safe to rest, all of them were more than ready for a week-long nap.

"Maylin..." Jaden frowned. "Your ears are pointy."

"It's the prosthetics," she replied, waving a hand in dismissal of the idea.

"No..." Jack paused. "You really do have pointy ears, Maylin."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't!"

"Alright already," Leigh chastised. "I'll look and see, ok? Is that good enough for everyone?" She scooted over next to her friend and brushed away the few strands of hair that blocked her view of the ear. Quickly, she grabbed the delicate point and gave a hard jerk.

"OUCH!"

"Um..." Leigh stared. "You have pointy ears."

Maylin reached up and felt where Leigh had tugged and, sure enough, there was a graceful, pointy tip on her ear. "Am I an... an..."

"An Elf?" Jaden asked. "Yeah, so it would look... why, more importantly how, are you an elf for crying out loud?"

"The trip..." Jack frowned. Leigh nodded with wide eyes.

"Yeah, maybe," she murmured. "Either that or... if you had been born here instead of in our world... you'd be an Elf here..."

"I'm confused," Jaden sighed.

"Um, who's the one with the pointy ears, here?" Maylin pointed at her ear.

"Well..." Leigh started. "This is really weird." She reached up and checked her own ear, just to be safe. "I guess there's no point worrying about it, I don't think that there's anything that we can do to help..."

"What do you mean 'help?'" Jack asked. "She's an ELF for crying out loud, that means that she's better off than the rest of us!"

"At least we know that at least one of us won't get sick from walking through all that water," Leigh pointed out.

"Why didn't we notice this earlier?" Jaden demaned.

"It was dark... we were focusing on escaping..." Leigh shrugged. "Who knows."

"Look at it this way, Maylin," Jaden comforted. "You are now available to all the awesome Elf guys..."

"Guys are the last thing we should be thinking about right now," Leigh cautioned.

"Hey!" Jack whined. "I'm a 'guy' are you just gonna forget about me?"

"I think we should just keep walking," Leigh smiled.

There were only a few hours left of sunlight when they stopped again for a rest. All of them were surprised by the fact that they had lasted so long, it wasn't like any of them were used to walking for hours at a time over rough country in the cold. At least they weren't walking in the stream any more. Leigh had declared that it was probably safe to get out and walk through the woods about two hours before their second break that day.

So, with frozen feet, (except for Maylin) they plodded over the root-infested ground that seemed to have its heart set on tripping them up at every other step. Jack had only ever really gone out 'hiking' in the woods behind his house, and there all he'd really had to worry about was the mass of underbrush that seemed to be trying to choke out the massive trees. Here, there wasn't all that much underbrush, but the roots were little devils that snared his feet in some kind of twisted game. He would have preferred the underbrush.

"Anybody else discover anything... strange... about themselves?" Jaden asked as she panted along. "You know, big, hairy feet, tails, flaming body parts...?"

"No," Leigh laughed. "Besides, I think that she really turned into an Elf when we first arrived here, I don't think that we're all just gonna randomly turn into other creatures from Middle-Earth."

"Good," Jack sighed. "I was afraid that I was going to turn into a Hobbit or something."

"If you turned into one, so would Jaden," Maylin pointed out. Jaden threw a pine cone at her head.

"Watch it, Elfie," she warned.

"Ok," Leigh held up a hand. "Hold it right there, everybody. I know that this is all really, really weird, we are all stressed, we are all tired, we are all hungry, and we are all scared out of our minds. But you have to remember that everyone else in our group feels that way. Now, we cannot, MUST not, let things here tear us apart. In case you all haven't noticed, we are the only outsiders here, so we have to stick together. If we let things like Maylin's... change... break us apart, then we are in big trouble. We'll get caught, tortured, and probably killed when all is said and done if we don't hand on to each other. Only by working together can we survive this, and have any hope of even considering going back if we want to when we sit down and have time to think." The others hung their heads and Leigh continued. "Now, listen up. We are going to find someone who can help us, take us to Gandalf or Elrond. And then, we are going to calmly, and rationally think through what exactly we have to do."

"Rationally?" Jaden giggled. "Here we are, in the middle of a fictional story, and you're saying that we should be 'rational.'"

"That's more like it, Jay," Jack grinned, slapping her on the back.

"Now let's go and out-run those orcs," Maylin grined.

"All for one!" Jaden chered.

"And one for all!" the other shouted back.


	3. The Blessings of Luck

The Blessings of Luck

Three weary days dragged by without capture or any sign of the orcs that were assumed to be in pursuit. Everyone took that as a good sign, and Leigh was just glad that they didn't have to flee from close proximity to the stream, which was their only source of water at the moment... Jaden liked the stream too, it was so much easier to get food along it. There were fish and turtles, and a few birds that appeared on occasion for a drink. His years in the Boy Scouts had paid off.

Even with his skills, however, all members of the party were nearly always hungry. It seemed that even when they had time to stop and catch an animal, the only thing that they managed to catch were tiny fish, painfully skinny birds, and the turtles with the hardest shells in the Northern half of Middle-Earth. Thus, plant life picked along the way or dug up at night made up the mass majority of their meager diet.

Maylin's knowledge of plants help tremendously in their search for berries and roots that wouldn't kill them as they ate them. It seemed that the Valar were kind in providing enough food to keep them on their feet, and Maylin grinned every time that she saw a heavy-laden berry bush that seemed to have been set there just for them.

Setting up 'camp' every night consisted of Jack heading to the stream to fish and set a few snares, Maylin and Jaden going around after eatable plants, and Leigh gathering 'bedding' to help keep them from freezing during the night.

Then, when everyone had returned from their various tasks, they cooked the meat Jack had caught, if there was any, ate the berries, roots, and tubers that Maylin and Jay had gathered, and talked before setting the watch and going to sleep. The lucky one on watch sat up and tried to stay awake long enough to be able to say that they had actually 'watched' and then wake up the correct replacement at the right time. Often, one would be awaken, look at the moon, and know that the watcher before them had taken a much longer watch than had been arranged.

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?" the replacement would ask.

"I just wanted to let you sleep a little while longer," would be the reply. Meaning. 'I fell asleep and didn't wake up in time to fake that I actually paid attention.'

Leigh Knew that it wasn't the wisest thing in the world to let people just fall asleep during their watch, but, she reasoned, if the orcs were in pursuit they would probably have caught up by this point, otherwise, they were so far behind that they didn't really pose an immediate threat to their safety. And it was also very likely that the orcs went the wrong way down the stream, or just sat there scratching their heads, wondering if they had simply disappeared into the air. Of course, orcs weren't their only concern at the moment. The Nazgul could have found out about their escape, and gone out after them, and there were many wild animals lurking throughout the wilds that would happily attack four unprotected travelers for a meal. There wasn't much any of them could do in any case, so she decided that it was best to just let the guilty party who fell asleep on watch just enjoy the sleep, they would need it the next day while they walked anyway.

Maylin was probably the only one who didn't have trouble with the watches. She had always known that the Elves didn't much sleep, but she wasn't used to the fact yet, and at least tried to sleep when it wasn't her watch... it just felt weird knowing that she could stay up all night and not suffer many if any ill effects in the morning as a result. There were going to be a lot things that she would need to get used to, she thought.

One night, Jack found himself with the first watch, and heavy eyelids. In his gut, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the lullaby of the whispering stream and nodded off to sleep. Still... he could try to stay awake, it would be an interesting change of pace, and, who knew? maybe the orcs were still after them, and were really just down the stream... running after them... Zzzzzzzz...

Leigh rolled over and groaned. Her favorite quote had become, "there's a dirty great root sticking into my back." The line from the movie held new truth to her now that she had experienced lying out on the ground with only a cloak to stay warm with. At least she had a cloak. And it hadn't rained. Things could be worse... a little. She decided that she might as well relieve Jack from the watch, since she couldn't sleep, and he was probably already asleep anyway...

"EEEK!" she screeched.

Leigh found herself staring at a tall form standing in the middle of their 'camp.' Her first instinct was to grab a large branch that lay by her head to serve as a weapon to defend herself and friends from whomever, or whatever had just entered their camp. Jaden, Maylin and Jack were all three awoken by her shriek and jumped to their own feet as well and produced fists or rocks to fight with. The same thought was on all their minds: the ringwraith had found them.

"Nazgul!" Maylin warned, even though it was apparent that the others had assumed the same.

"Peace," the figure breathed. "I am not a Nazgul."

"Well then," Leigh demanded. "What-who- are you?"

"I am Glorfindel who dwells in the house of Elrond. You need not fear me."

"An Elf...?" Maylin lowered her rock and glanced at Leigh.

"Indeed," Glorfindel nodded, obviously trying not to startle them any further. "Please forgive my intrusion of your camp, but I was curious as to what three women and a boy were doing in the middle of the wilderness, with no men guarding them."

"We also apologize," Leigh said slowly, thinking over her words carefully. "We are on the run from two orcs who had taken us prisoner, and we were startled."

"You are fleeing from orcs?" Glorfindel frowned. "Then why did you believe me to be a Nazgul, and not an orc."

"We ran into a Nazgul first," Jaden said. "Then he left us with the orcs."

"You have met a Nazgul and lived?" Glorfindel asked.

"Yes..." Maylin spoke up. "And since we escaped from the orcs, we have been lost. We have to see one of the Wise as soon as possible."

"There is more here than simply four lost travelers," Glorfindel acknowledged. "One of whom, is an Elf." Maylin glanced at the ground.

"Please, we have to reach Rivendell," Jaden pleaded.

"It is of the utmost importance," Leigh agreed.

"I shall lead you there," Glorfindel consented. "But I must know more of you four. I cannot simply lead strangers into the house of Elrond unless I am completely certain that I bring no danger with me."

"We look dangerous to you?" Leigh arched an eyebrow.

"No, but things are not always as they appear," he smiled. He sat down and began making a fire to warm to frosty air. "Where do you hail from?"

"Very, very, very, very, VERY far away," Jaden sighed as she sat down.

"I don't really think that you would believe us, sir," Maylin said.

"Maybe not," Glorfindel shrugged. "But one never knows."

"Alright," Leigh sighed. "We are not from Middle-Earth, and not from across the sea, either. We were kidnaped and brought here from our world by a Nazgul, that's why we thought you were one."

"That makes no sense to me," Glorfindel stated mildly. "What would the Dark Lord want with four young people from another world?"

The group exchanged looks and frowned, not sure how much they should say.

"Should we tell him about the book?" Jack asked.

"If we say too much, he'll think we're crazy," Jaden pointed out.

"And if we don't say enough, he won't take us to Rivendell..." Leigh sighed.

"I can hear you still, you know," Glorfindel reminded them. "Tell me everything, starting with your names, and we shall see if I believe you."

"I'm Leigh, that's Jaden, Jack and Maylin," Leigh said, indicating each in turn. "Where we come from... this... is just a story... it's not real." Glorfindel arched an eyebrow. "We did warn you. Anyway, we've all been friends for years, we're the kind of friends that finish each other's sentences and stuff. Anyway, we all love this story, so we know endless things about it, in a few cases, we even know about the personal lives of some characters... you'll probably be glad to know that you aren't one of those."

"We went to this festival," Maylin picked up. "Where everyone dressed kinda like people here do. We turned down this alley and there was a Nazgul standing there... and they don't exist in our world. He said something in Black Speech and suddenly... we were here, well, a bit downstream but... here."

"Do you remember what it said?" Glorfindel frowned.

"I think... I think I do..." Jaden hesitated.

"Speak it, please."

"Are you sure?" she asked, glancing at him and Maylin. "Don't Elves get like... sick when they hear that...?"

"Please, Jaden," he said. Then he smiled. "I think I can stand a few words."

"Ok then..." she paused to remember. "It was something like: Ash nazg gimbatul, Ash nazg thrakatuluk. Or something like that..."

"Jaden, are you sure?" Leigh and Maylin demanded.

"Yeah.. I think so."

"That's part of the Ring verse," Maylin muttered.

"Meaning?" Jack asked.

"I have no idea."

"You were wrong, my lady," Glorfindel bowed as he rose. "I do indeed believe you."

"May I venture to ask why?" Jaden asked.

"You know things that no one, especially not ones so young, should or could know about the Ring," he explained.

"Well that's ..." Leigh paused. "Unexpected."

"Is any of this what you were expecting?" Maylin asked.

"Not really, no," Leigh chuckled.

"When do we leave for Rivendell?" Jack asked.

"Now, if you're ready," Glorfindel replied.

"As soon as we put out the fire," Leigh said.

"This is an unexpected twist," Jaden whispered to Leigh and Maylin as they threw dirt on the fire and grabbed Jack's homemade fishing pole and their cloaks from the ground. "I didn't think that we would run into anyone from the books... especially not someone like Glorfindel."

"How did you come upon us anyway?" Jack asked.

"I am out... scouting I suppose you could say, and I saw your tracks by the stream," he shrugged. "All I had to do was walk into your camp, your devoted sentry was examining the insides of his eyelids." Jack blushed.

"Aw," Leigh smiled. "Don't feel bad, Jack, you were just the one actually caught in the act, Jaden and I have had our fair share of nightly naps while on guard duty ourselves."

"If you are all prepared to leave," Glorfindel said. "We had best move."

"Um," Jaden grimaced. "I don't want to sound like a Hobbit, but..." Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "How far, and how long, is it to Rivendell?"

"About a day, actually," he smiled. "You came much closer than you thought, evidently. For being completely lost, you have an excellent sense of direction."

"No," Leigh grimaced, "just lucky."

"Are you in pain?" Glorfindel asked with a furrowed brow.

"Just my wrists," she started. Glorfindel swiftly stepped forward and held up her wrists to the moon light.

"Even though I do not yet know you very well, Leigh, I can tell that you are a very determined young woman."

"Oh," she smirked. "And how can you tell that?"

"These are rope burns, are they not? Bad ones I might add," he dropped her wrist and pulled a couple bandages from his pack. "And I can think of only one way in which you could have received them, and that is by rubbing your wrists vigorously against them in an attempt to escape. Am I correct?"

"Yeah," she winced as the bandages touched the raw skin. "But it wasn't an attempt, we did get loose."

"I stand corrected," he laughed. "Now, I think the sooner we get to Rivendell, the better. Leigh's wrists add an extra incentive. So now, we shall leave."

He set off into the dark forest followed by the four companions. The thought occurred to Maylin that they were very much like the Hobbits with Strider, following someone that they barely knew to reach the safety of Rivendell... one of them was even slightly wounded.

By the time the sun came up, it was apparent that they wouldn't be stopping until they were in the house of Elrond, safe for the time being from wraiths, orcs and any other nasty thing that might be after them at the moment.

"Glorfindel?" Jaden asked. "Wait, is that right? Saying your name like that? Should I say something like 'my lord Glorfindel' or something like that?"

"No," he laughed. "Perhaps in a formal setting that might be required, but there is no need to deal with such formalities here." The four exchanged a grin behind his back.

"Thanks, anyway," Jaden continued, "what are the other Elves like? I mean, you seem nice to me, but... are the others all sticks in the mud... if you take my meaning?"

"Jaden!" Maylin exclaimed. "What kind of question is that!"

"One that is asked in honest truth," Glorfindel laughed. "The others are much like I, only a few are what you would call sticks in the mud."

"How do you think Lord Elrond will react to us?" Leigh asked.

"I believe that he will be surprised, but," he paused. "I think that he will welcome you to his home."

"You BELIEVE?" Jack asked.

"Jack..." Maylin warned. She stepped over to him and whispered in his ear, "Go not to the Elves for council, for they will tell you both yes and no. I think what we got was a rather good answer for an Elf."

"I'd sure hate to marry one," Jaden muttered to Leigh. "You wouldn't know if they were asking you or not."

"Among ourselves," Glorfindel laughed. "We are much more specific, we simply do not wish to meddle with another's path."

"That makes sense," Maylin nodded.

"Of course it would," Jack pointed out. "You ARE an Elf."

"Thank you for doing this," Leigh said quietly to Glorfindel.

"There is no need to thank me," he replied. "I personally feel that you are here for some purpose, and that to leave you alone, and at the Dark Lord's mercy could spell our doom."

"Well, thanks anyway," Leigh insisted.

"And you are welcome," Glorfindel said.

"Stop," Glorfindel commanded. "Look down and you shall see Rivendell, the Elven refuge, and home of Lord Elrond Half-Elven."

"Oh, wow," Maylin breathed as she and the others stared down into the breath taking splendor of the valley that housed the magnificent home of the Lord Elrond. When she had first read the books as a little kid, she had always dreamed of how Rivendell would look. When Bilbo and the Dwarves stared down in the Hobbit, she had felt as if she were standing there beside them... come to think of it... this might have been the place where they had stood...

"The views inside," Glorfindel promised. "Are equally as glorious as the one you are seeing now. Shall we go down?" All four nodded in mute agreement.

As they walked under the trees, Leigh found herself glancing up every so often, half expecting to see a teasing Elven face peering down at her, half expecting to wake up.

"Welcome home, Lord Glorfindel," a beautiful Elven woman said as she appeared from around a corner. "And welcome also to his guests," she smiled at them. "My father has been informed of your arrival, and will personally see you when you have had time to refresh and rest yourselves."

Staring straight ahead, Jaden pulled on Leigh's sleeve. "That's Arwen..." she gasped in a whisper.

"Yeah, I know," Leigh nodded. "The four of us need to have a meeting... as soon as we've talked to Lord Elrond." Three more Elven women and a young, Elven man stepped into sight.

"These Elves will lead you to your rooms," she explained. "Then you may rest until Lord Elrond sends for you."

All four mutely followed their guides and found that there was a wonderful room laid out for each of them. None of them had ever seen such splendor, let alone known that the room that they had each entered was theirs personally until they left. The concept of actually being guests in Elrond's house had blown their minds. Yeah, sure they knew that they were going to Rivendell for protection, and that they would probably be staying there for a little while, but they had never thought about actually being considered 'guests'. Each had their own fear about the welcome that they would receive there. Some feared that they would be declared evil or something and be thrown into the dungeons or whatever. And of course there was always the possibility that they would simply not be excepted in, that they would have worked so hard to get there for nothing. But now, standing there, each was overcome with the beauty and plain, old goodness that seemed to surround them in this place. All of them felt a reluctance to have to leave with the Fellowship, but then, if they stayed, and they were discovered, it was likely that Rivendell would be attacked, and would be destroyed because of them. None of them were willing to take that risk.

Jack threw a longing glance at the bed, but then thought better of it, and realized that he should probably wash before jumping into that wonderful, clean bed or he would contaminate it, and cause extra work for his honored hosts, and that was something that he really didn't want to do.

The water in Jaden's room didn't even have a chance to think about getting cold. She practically charged as soon as her guide had left her alone. Clean... that was a good thought, and it would be an even better feeling! Suddenly she felt like a little kid again, having endless delight over something as ordinary as a bath.

As Maylin dried her hair, she walked around her room and examined every little detail that she saw there. Even the carvings had carvings here. Of course, extremely ornate details don't even compare to a nice, squishibly soft bed when you're dog tired and haven't seen one in days.

Bed... nice... soft... bed. Who knew that a bed could inspire such feelings on a day that wasn't even a weekend for crying out loud. Then again... it might be a weekend after all... Leigh had no idea what day it was anymore... now she just needed Gandalf to walk in and tell her the time, month and date... zzzzzzzz.


	4. Guests in the House of Elrond

Guests in the House of Elrond

The next thing that Maylin was aware of was a gentle knock at her door... of any knock that disturbs a sound sleep is gentle... Grudgingly, she threw a robe over her sleeping clothes and answered the door.

"Lord Elrond requests your presence as soon as you and your friends are dressed and fully awake," the Elf smiled.

"Thank you," Maylin yawned. "I'll be ready in a minute." She closed the door and walked over to the wardrobe she had discovered the... evening?... previous. All of the clothes were gorgeous and far nicer than any of the dresses she had ever made, most of them, she couldn't even identify the material properly. Big shocker there. Picking one that seemed 'plain' compared to the others, she hurriedly slipped it on, splashed the now cool water on her face, brushed her hair, and jogged back to the door.

She was almost instantly thankful for her guide. The book had done a fair job of describing the endlessly twisting corridors of Elrond's house. Everything looked like it had in the movie trilogy, and it had always looked like it was actually a few smaller buildings that would be fairly easy to find one's way in... wrong. She wasn't sure whether it was simply cunning architecture, or whether there was Elven magic involved somehow. Neither possibility would surprise her, but Bilbo's words concerning Rivendell drifted into her thoughts and made her lean toward the magic option. The halls were all intricately designed with flowing patterns and statues that stood guard in the peaceful house... of one could honestly call this place house, she thought.

"Maylin!" a much happier looking Jaden called out as she caught sight of her friend. "You look better, sleep well?"

"Do I really need to bother answering that question?" she teased.

"So much for not wearing dresses this time around!" Leigh laughed as she stepped into view, following her own guide. "At least we all look nice."

"Hello!" Jack called.

"Leave it to you to be the late one," Leigh joked.

"Hey," Jack retorted. "Just who was it that was late to the festival?"

"I've already had my reprimand," Leigh sniffed. "Just thought I'd return the favor."

"Ai na vedui randiri! Mae govannen!" a pleasant voice greeted. All four turned to see Elrond standing in the doorway across the hall, swiftly, they each attempted to bow... some more successful that others. "Welcome to my home, young travelers, Glorfindel has told me about you. I must say," he gave them a gentle smile, "that I do have many questions for you."

"Well then I must tell you that we also have a few questions," Leigh said nervously.

"And I shall answer them as best I can," he replied, waving off their attendants. "As I am sure you shall do for my questions."

"Yeah, about that," Maylin began. "Um... we're afraid that if we tell you too much, it will mess up the flow of things... mess up the way the story is supposed to go..."

"I understand," he nodded. "In fact, I agree with you completely."

"You do?" Maylin asked with relief in her voice.

"Yes. Most of my questions have to do with you and your friends personally."

"May I ask why?" Leigh asked. She was slightly uncomfortable around this Elrond who looked so much like the severe, frowning version from the movies, the one that reminded her of a grumy English teacher she had once had.

"So that I may have a better idea as to what to do," Elrond explained. "I am not yet sure if you can survive this world outside of Rivendell, and I would also like to know," he paused and looked at each one, "how much wisdom and knowledge each of you possess."

"Aren't they the same thing?" Jaden asked.

"No," Leigh shook her head. "Knowledge is just stuff you know. Wisdom is whether or not you use that knowledge correctly."

"Well that is an awfully good sign," Elrond grinned.

"What will we do hear?" Jack asked. "I mean... until we leave or... whatever... is there something exactly that you want us to do?"

"I am not yet sure," Elrond paused. "If I guess correctly, there will be much danger ahead, especially for ones so valuable to the Dark Lord." They nodded. "If that is the case, I would ask that you learn some basic skills with weapons. I assume that you do not have any or much previous experience..."

"You would guess correctly," Maylin nodded.

"Well then," Elrond nodded. "As an Elf, I believe you should learn archery and the use of knives or some other secondary weapon."

"I'm not exactly..." Maylin paused and looked at Leigh for assistance.

"She wasn't an Elf before we arrived here," Leigh explained. Elrond arched an eyebrow, and Leigh was forced to wonder just how much more of this insanity these Elves could take. "In... our world... Elves don't exist... their just fictitious. I know that it sounds really weird, but she was human before we came, and then, all of a sudden, she was an Elf." She shrugged helplessly. "That's the only way that I know how to explain it, I'm sorry."

"No," Elrond said. "There is no need to apologize. I believe that this has been even harder for you then I first thought. But I still believe that, new Elf or no, you are still an Elf, Maylin, and you should learn how to use a bow. The rest of you... shall learn to use a sword."

"Not to be rude," Leigh pointed out. "But I don't think any of us, Jack included, could even raise a broad sword, let alone fight with one."

"I believe Elvish swords would be far more appropriate for you," Elrond smiled. "Until such time as you, I, or any of the Wise decide that you should leave, you are welcome to my home. I know of at least one of my other guests who has been dying to meet you since he heard of your arrival and I am sure that you can find something to fill your time with when you are not practicing."

"Thank you, my Lord," Leigh bowed deeply. "May I enquire as to whom has been wanting to meet us?"

"My Lord Elrond!" a little voice called as the doors to the room flew open. "I heard that they were awake and... oh, hullo!"

"That's Bilbo!" Jack whispered in Jaden's ear.

"Uh-huh," she nodded. Leigh and Maylin exchanged looks of sheer delight over the bubbly little Hobbit in front of them.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Bilbo said grandly. "I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, pleased to have the honor of you acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all ours," Maylin replied. "I am Maylin."

"My name is Jaden."

"I'm Jack."

"I am Leigh."

"Oh, yes," Bilbo beamed. "I already have learned your names from Glorfindel. It isn't everyday that there are visitors here. I was so excited when I heard of your arrival."

"I'm sure you were," Maylin giggled.

Do you know any good stories?" he asked.

"I'm sure between the three of us we know plenty of stories to keep you occupied," Jaden grinned.

"I would love to learn more about you each personally as well..."

"I suppose we will perhaps speak again some other time," Elrond laughed. "Once Bilbo begins, there is no stopping him."

"That we know," Jack whispered to Maylin.

"Now," Bilbo asked Jaden. "What kind of things do you like to do? They said that you couldn't tell me much about your world..."

"Bilbo..." Elrond cautioned.

"... but I don't mind," Bilbo continued. "Oh! Do you like to eat? They have wonderful food here..."

Jack leaned on his elbows on the bridge that would hold the infamous Aragorn and Arwen kissing scene. At least now he didn't need a guide. In the few days that they'd been there, he'd seen beauties that he didn't know could really exist and had begun learning to wield a sword, something that he thought he'd never do. It was like he was becoming Super Jack or something the way he'd been learning from the Elves and everything... it felt really weird. If he ever got home again, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to call anything 'weird' ever again.

However, he knew things had yet to get REALLY weird. Soon, they would have to leave the shelter of Rivendell and trek across the wilderness and through orc-infested caverns only to get rid of stinkin' band of gold. He knew that he wasn't being fair, but he couldn't care less. The feeling that Frodo had experienced at Tom Bombadil's house was similar to what he was feeling at present. Leaving meant the possibility that they might run into more Nazgul, something that he dreaded more than anything else at present, and then there was the big, nasty balrog waiting in Moria... Suddenly, it didn't seem so easy to criticize the fear that Frodo had about leaving such a peaceful place. Making decisions was easy when you didn't have to face the results.

"Hey," Maylin said as she walked up. "We're gonna have a meeting in Jaden's room about the specifics concerning the soon-to-arrive-Felloship-members."

"Uh-huh."

"You ok?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Just thinking."

"We've all been doing a lot of that recently, I think," Maylin nodded.

"It's just..." Jack hesitated. "Sean DIED, Maylin. I mean, he's dead, gone, not coming back, ever. Even though I didn't really know him really well or anything, he was a cool guy, fun and laid-back and all that stuff. Didn't he have a family somewhere? And he even told Leigh he had friends... Sean had a LIFE, and now he's just... dead. It's scary, I've seen dead people at funerals, but I've never actually seen someone die before."

"I don't think any of us had before that," Maylin said.

"If you could go home right now... would you?"

"I honestly don't know actually," she confessed. "There are certainly things I miss..."

"Like what?"

"My dorm... my wonderful, lovely cd player..." she shrugged. "Generally goofy stuff."

"I'm just not sure what to make of all this..." he waved his hand. "Strangeness."

"Oh, yeah, I can agree with you there. I don't even know what to consider myself anymore."

"I guess we should go to that meeting," he smiled.

"We're probably gonna be late."

"It's our turn to get yelled at."

"I'm not gonna say a word," Leigh grinned as Maylin and Jack stepped in. "But you ARE late."

"That's a lot to say when you were supposedly going to say NOTHING," Maylin retorted.

"Down to business," Jaden called from her seat on the bed. "I'm tired, so could we get this over with as soon as possible, please?"

"Absolutely," Jack said, plopping on the edge of the lovely, soft mattress.

"Just so long as the two of you stay awake," Maylin cautioned.

"Whatever," Jaden replied.

"The question is: who do we go with when the Fellowship splits?" Leigh asked. "I vote against going with Frodo and Sam."

"Why?" Jack asked.

"Because we'll draw more attention to them," Maylin agreed. "The whole point of them going alone is to sneak in, and we know that they don't need any help."

"Also," Leigh added. "We can help draw Sauron's attention away from them. From what I gather, we are on the most wanted list."

"Oh," Jaden moaned. "You have such a delicate way of stating things."

"Hmmmm, yes," she mocked. "But we still have the same question."

"I guess the three marathon runners," Jack said to the ceiling.

"I guess," Leigh sighed. "Everyone should practice running laps, so we don't hold them back."

"Please tell me you're kidding!" Jaden exclaimed.

"Don't freak out," Maylin laughed. "She was kidding. But that is a legitimate concern."

"I think that we're just gonna have to wing some things," Jack pointed out.

"I think you're right," Leigh said. "The story has already changed just from our presence."

"Ya think?" Jack joked.

"Sometimes," Leigh replied.

"Um, I have a question," Jaden raised her hand. "Has anyone figured out just _how_ we got here? I think that it's safe to assume that Sauron and/or the Ring had something to do with it."

"Actually," Maylin exchanged glances with Leigh. "Elrond, Leigh and I have been discussing possibilities."

"Err, is that really wise?" Jack asked. "I mean, should we be telling him things about... the story?"

"Don't freak out," Leigh sighed. "We kinda decided not to be spilling potentially story-changing stuff to Elrond when we first met him, remember? Anyway, back on topic. Yes, both Sauron _and_ the Ring have a great deal to do with our little... err... trip here."

"First off," Maylin began. "Sauron kinda, almost died, remember that? Well, we think that in the odd and warped folds of time, space and all those other really confusing things he saw a glimpse of our world or something."

"And he and the Ring are still connected, and no one really knows just how far it's power goes," Leigh continued. "So from what we've pieced together, we think that when he became somewhat... solid... in the form of the Eye, he taught one of his head Nazgul how to slip, at least partially, between worlds, they're not exactly mortal, either."

"Wait a minute," Jack interrupted. "Does that mean that He could launch an attack on our world at any time, too?"

"We thought about that," Maylin said. "But we don't think so. Our world seems to be... different from this world."

"I've noticed," Jaden giggled. "Elves, orcs, magic..."

"Precisely," Leigh nodded. "We think that those differences, especially magic, make it impossible for them to live in our world."

"They can still mess it up big time though," Jack argued.

"No, not really," Maylin comforted. "Notice that it came to a Medieval Festival of all things, not just the middle of downtown or something. You remember reading Peter Pan?"

"Never read it," Jaden confessed.

"Cheater," Leigh said. "But, anyway, in the story it says that you have to believe in Fairies for them to exist? You know, clap your hands and all that? We think that when there's enough fantasy minded people together, it is easier for them to cross over."

"So if I focused enough," Jaden asked. "I could conjure up a cheese burger right now?"

"No, no, no," Maylin laughed. "Oh, boy. Um, it doesn't really mean believing-is-making or anything like that, this world already existed, we think Tolkien had some kind of gift to see glimpses of Middle-Earth, and then he just thought that he'd come up with an awesome story, which it is, but that isn't the point."

"And the Nazgul was never really in our world," Leigh added. "His... spirit... kind of had its foot stuck in the cosmic door or something, and then he just... enlarged the bubble a bit to include us. I think only the grace of the Valar made it possible for us to survive that trip. But anyway, when we thought we saw the wall close in behind us, we were already half-in-half-out so to speak."

"We think that it happened when that 'cloud' passed over-head," Maylin explained.

"Then there's the Palantir..." Leigh sighed.

"Huh?"

"With the right spells or whatever," Leigh continued. "Elrond thinks that Sauron found a way of using one of them to show our world to him... then all he had to do was pick out a likely, knowledgeable group that could tell him what he wanted to know."

"And why didn't he just look over someone's shoulder when they were reading the books?" Jaden asked.

"He can't read our languages," Maylin pointed out. "We think that the Valar gifted us with understanding of at least the Common Tongue... Elrond thinks that they have a plan for us or something intellectual like that."

"One last question," Jack asked. "If the Ring might be our only ticket back home... what do we do when it's destroyed?"

"Maybe we'll get tossed back to our world," Maylin shrugged. "Maybe we'll be stuck here, that's something we couldn't riddle out."

"For the time being," Leigh announced. "We are prophets to these people, we know things about the future, and we must all remember to act accordingly."


	5. Arrival of the Pilgrim

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that Tolkien does, thus, I do not own Lord of the Rings or anything in it.

Arrival of the Pilgrim

Leigh wondered if she could catch a fish with her bare hands. The pleasant little stream flowing along in front of her was chock-full of them. She had no intention of killing the slippery creature, let alone eating it, but she did wonder if she could if she had to sometime. Visions of Gollum leaping into a stream after an illusive fish drifted through her thoughts and she decided against that tactic. Even though all of the gracious ladies that lived in Rivendell laughed at her concern over messing up the splendid clothes that had been provided for her, she felt like she was eternally wearing her fancy clothes, and (as has been well trained into nearly all young children) she was constantly worried about ruining them. Maybe she could come back later with Jaden and try to catch a fish. A stubborn part of her simply refused to ask Jack to help... she hated it when someone had to show her how to do practical things that she should be able to figure out on her own anyway.

Her sword-fighting lessons were a different matter entirely. She and her two friends that remained human had spent seemingly endless hours of drilling, sometimes fighting each other, sometimes one of their Elven tutors. Glorfindel, the mean old thing, had 'happened by' once while they were drilling and had enjoyed taking all of them at once and whooping the living daylights out of them. Jack had faired worst in the basic lesson material. Unlike Jaden and herself, he knew absolutely nothing about swords, except that you were supposed to fight with it and that the pointy end of the opponent's blade should be kept away at all costs. Jaden actually had some experience in the area of swords, she fenced... some. Leigh knew all about the construction and 'proper handling' of a sword, but that could only help so much when actually fighting with one.

An eagle's call tore her from her thoughts. Eagle? The only eagle that she knew of that should be landing in Rivendell would be the one that bore Gandalf away from Isengard. She really wasn't sure whether to be excited about meeting the great and wise Gandalf, or freaked out about speaking to one of the most powerful beings in Middle-Earth. Who knew what he would think about them? Would he be happy and kind, like he was with Frodo? Or would he see them as dangerous creatures that could destroy Middle-Earth on a whim? They could really... but it was doubtful that all four would have the same whim at the same time, so there would always be someone to keep Middle-Earth safe... But would Gandalf see that? Would he really see them for what they were: four frightened, nervous and vulnerable young people that had just witnessed their entire world turn on its head? Would they be spending the remainder of their pathetic lives hopping about the forests surrounding Rivendell as four, miserable toads? Oh, boy.

With a nervous gulp, she headed back up the path that winded down to the stream. Maybe she could rally all four together before Gandalf caught one off guard and began an endless barrage of questions that would leave the poor victim stuttering in a fit of fear and nerves. Maylin might be able to hold her own against a worried wizard... maybe. But Jaden probably would stand there stuttering in nervousness and Jack would just stand there without the stuttering. Since their arrival all four had learned to look out for their fellows, and Leigh had taken the role of semi-leader, aka, she generally represented them with Elrond and his officials, made sure everyone was doing ok in their new surroundings, and called 'counsels' as they had come to be called around the group. Before she could find a single soul, however, she turned a corner to find herself just down the hall from Elrond and Gandalf, who were deep in each other's counsel at the moment.

Spinning on her heel, she tried to dodge back behind the safety of the wall before she was spotted by Elrond's keen Elf eyes, or Gandalf's scrutinizing glance. In all of her concern for her friends, the thought hadn't bothered crossing her mind that SHE might be the poor devil that they ran into first, alone and unarmed for the storm of questions Gandalf was sure to unloose. It was an unlikely event that she would slip away unnoticed, but, what the hey? it was worth trying, right?

"Leigh!" Elrond's voice resounded down the hall. "Come and meet Gandalf."

Slowly, almost painfully, she froze, turned back around, and walked toward the two awaiting her at the end of the hallway. "Greetings, my lords," she bowed.

"You are calling _me_ a lord?" Gandalf chuckled. "Good heavens, Master Elrond, what have you done to the girl? She's as pale as a sheet and as stiff as a board!"

"I believe, my friend, that it is indeed _you_ who have thrown her into such a state," the Elf lord laughed. "Usually, she is quite amiable."

"She's afraid of ME?" Gandalf asked. "And why would such a brave young woman be so frightened by a white-haired old man?"

"Because," Leigh said quietly. "From what I know of you, you have a great fondness for asking questions, and I do not think that I will be able to answer most of them. And then there is the greater danger of awakening the wrath of a great wizard against myself and my friends and waking up in the morning as toads."

"Smart little thing isn't she?" Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eye. "You need not fear me, child. I think that I shall pry our Master Elrond here for more information if I should have anymore questions concerning you and your companions.

"Now," he added. "I should very much like to be friends with you and the others, though. From what Master Elrond has told me, you have all had some interesting adventures since your arrival, and I should like to know, not what you can tell me, but what I can do to help you."

Leigh looked up from her detailed study of her boots to meet Gandalf's eye with a smile. "Thank you, sir," she said."I can assemble my friends and myself any time you would like. You need only name the place and time."

"Very well then," he straightened. "The gardens by the stream at seven 'o clock this evening will do very well for introductions to your comrades and a further introduction of yourself. From what I have been told, you do not need much if any introduction of me."

"So it shall be," Leigh replied with yet another bow. Then she bounded off down the hall to pick up her search for her friends once more, but with a different reason than before.

"Leigh!" Maylin exclaimed when she caught sight of her friend. "We were getting worried."

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "You weren't in your room, by the stream, working on sword stuff, not even the library for crying out loud!"

"Well, here I am," she said simply. "Sorry that I worried you guys, but I was... unavoidably detained, so to speak."

"Ha!" Jaden laughed clapping her hands. "Guess who ran into Gandalf! So, he obviously doesn't think that we're evil, nasty, dangerous people who ought to be turned into toads!"

"Actually, he was very kind," Leigh smiled. "I think Elrond explained as much as possible to him before we.. err... ran into each other. Gandalf understands that we can't say anything, so we're safe there, in fact," her grin spread. "I think he just wants to get to know us a bit better. It is my belief that he senses that we'll all be seeing a lot of each other in the times ahead."

"Oh, yes!" Maylin cheered. "He is Happy-Grand-fatherly-Gandalf! Not Turn-All-Possible-Threats-into-Toads-Gandalf, that's a relief!"

"He's still a very powerful wizard, though," Jaden warned. "And he still has a temper. It's not that he's one way or another, it's the light he sees _us_ in."

"Jaden's been hanging out with the Elves too long!" Jack said in taunting, whining voice.

"Oh, whatever," Jaden rolled her eyes. "I'm still nowhere as bad as Maylin and Leigh! They're both hanging around Bilbo, learning Elvish and studying maps! At least I'm still sane."

"You are?" Leigh asked.

"Yeah," Jaden retorted.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Leigh slapped the side of her head. "Gandalf wants to meet us all tonight. We are to meet him at seven in the gardens that run along the stream."

"Wonder where he got that idea," Maylin grinned, fully aware of the fact that it was one of her friend's favorite haunts.

"I didn't say a word," Leigh said solemnly.

"That would be a first," Jack chirped. He yelped and ran off as Leigh dashed after him in hot pursuit of the speaker of the insult.

"I'm getting a little cold," Jack grinned, hopping between feet to keep warm.

"You're cold?" Jaden snorted. "What on earth are you going to do when we get to Caradhras?"

"Freeze, Jay," he stated. "Freeze."

"Oh, brother," Leigh rolled her eyes as she walked up. "You're cold, Jack?"

"Yeah," he said defensively. "Is that some kinda crime or something? The way you guys are carrying on about it..." Maylin walked up and Jack saw his chance. "Maylin! You get cold all the time too! Don't you think that it's just a little chilly down here?"

"I'm an Elf, Jack," she grinned. "I don't really get cold anymore."

"Ok, that's just not fair," he pouted.

"Life's not fair, Jack!" she giggled. "Bite the bullet and live with it!"

"Hello there!" a hearty voice greeted. They all turned or looked up to see Gandalf walking toward them down the trail. "I am certainly glad that I didn't scare young Leigh bad enough for her to forget my instructions."

"This is Jaden, Maylin, and Jack," Leigh pointed to each in turn. "You've already met me."

"Indeed," he smiled. "I trust you all already know _my_ name, so I shan't waste my breath. What do you each think of Middle-Earth so far?"

"It's big," Jack said with wide eyes. "And at the moment, cold." Jaden elbowed him in the ribs, but Gandalf just laughed.

"I think it's... very different," Jaden shrugged. "I haven't seen much of it yet."

"There is far too much that can be said of it," Leigh grinned. "To be summed up in a couple sentences."

"It's beautiful," Maylin siad.

"Leave it to the Elf to notice the beauty in this world," Gandalf chuckled. "You each remind me of others, at least of other races if not individuals."

"I think that this is the first time that I reminded someone of a person besides my parents," Jaden giggled.

"Well I couldn't be a very good judge of that," Gandalf pointed out as he sat down on a bench.

"Mister Gandalf, sir," Jack paused. "What exactly are we supposed to call you?"

"Gandalf will be fine," he said. "Young people saying my name with all those titles makes me feel old."

"Not to be rude, Gandalf," Leigh grinned. "But you are old when you think about it."

"Blunt little thing aren't you?" he replied. "I never said that I wasn't old, I just said that when people say such things it makes me _feel_ old, not as old as many of the Elves, but still old."

"I have the opposite problem," Maylin said. "Being surrounded by other members of your own race who are thousands of years old tends to make me feel like an infant."

"At least your physical age didn't change when you turned into an Elf," Jack grinned. "Then you'd look like an infant too!"

"Jack," Leigh said. "Be nice."

"I believe I understand what you mean," Gandalf smiled gently. "But this too will change in time."

"I trust you said hello to Bilbo," Jaden spoke up. "He'd be heartbroken if you didn't."

"Oh, of course," Gandalf laughed. "It is difficult to forget him when he lurks in waiting outside the room you are conversing in to greet you and try to get news."

"It must be a Hobbit trait," Maylin grinned, sharing a smile with her friends.

"Quite possibly," Gandalf agreed. "I am not sure of which they are fonder, gossip or food!"

"I wasn't aware that there was any doubt as to that," Leigh snickered.

"Both are quite tasty at times," Maylin shrugged.

"That was a really bad joke, Maylin," Jaden winced.

"Yes, I know."

"Hmm."

The sound of approaching footsteps disrupted their conversation, and Jaden found, to her surprise, that she had started reaching toward the place where her sheath hung during practice. Leigh caught her eye and winked, obviously experiencing the same phenomena. Then Glorfindel appeared and the distant whisper of a threat disappeared from the four young warriors' minds. He paused when he saw Gandalf and bowed.

"I am sorry," he apologized. "I did not know that I was interrupting a meeting."

"Oh, do not worry, Glorfindel," Gandalf said warmly. "I am sure that I have badgered these young people enough for one night, and I think I know why you have come. Now, if you would excuse me, I shall go and try to get a little rest before something else comes to my mind that I must do." With that, he walked off into the calm evening back toward the buildings of Rivendell.

"Glorfindel!" Jaden greeted. "It is so good to see you again!"

"It is my pleasure to see the four of you again," he smiled. "I have come to bid you farewell for the time being."

"Oh, of course," Leigh nodded. "You're going out to look for Strider and the Hobbits."

"Indeed," he acknowledged. "So, I have come to say good-bye in person, for I have greatly enjoyed the privilege of having four such fascinating friends."

"And we have enjoyed the privilege of having such a well trained friend in the art of swordsmanship," Jaden replied. Glorfindel laughed.

"I shall look forward to our next duel then," he bowed. "Until then, may the stars shine on the end of your road."

"Namarie," Maylin and Leigh said fondly.

"Namarie," he replied.

"Goodbye, Glorfindel! Hurry back with new friends!" Jaden cried.

"I second that," Jack grinned. "And take care of yourself."

"I shall," Glorfindel promised. "Before I leave, may I please see how your wrists are, Leigh?" She nodded and raised them for inspection, nearly healed and neatly wrapped for protection. "Now I must leave you, my friends. Namarie!"

"Namarie!" the cried back as he turned and left.

"At least we know that we'll see him again soon," Jaden said to herself.

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "And when he comes back, we get to meet the Hobbits!"

"Some of them," Maylin frowned. "But remember, Frodo will be badly wounded, and the others, especially Sam, won't be up for much conversation. At least not at first."

"I didn't think about that," Jack murmured. "But I can at least try to be friendly, right?"

"Sure," Leigh shrugged. "Just don't be pushy or anything, and don't act like you know too much about Frodo or the others, I don't think that they'd take it as well as the other people have so far."

"Okay," Jaden said brightly. "Who knows? Maybe we can cheer them up a bit faster!"

"Maybe," Maylin smiled.


	6. Hobbits, Food, and Swords

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN anything that has anything to do with the Lord of the Rings.

author's note: This is a really long chapter. ;) that will make some of you very happy, and some of you very unhappy. I am very sorry that I haven't updated as much asI normally do, butI wasreally, really busy with choir, so, yeah, anyway.Enjoy!

Hobbits, Food, and Swords

"They're here!" Jaden shouted.

Jack slapped his hands over his ears. Just a moment ago, he had been taking a very peaceful nap... and then Jay had to come in screaming and ruin it. The arrival of the Hobbits was great, really it was, but they had certainly picked an inconvenient time to send Jaden in.

"Errrruummm," he groaned into his pillow.

"What?" Jaden asked.

"Nothing," Jack yawned. "Was there a specific reason that you had to come in here with all the noise of a freight train in the middle of my nap?"

"You hardly ever take naps, how was I supposed to know?" Jaden demanded.

"Well I did stay up late last night listening to the music..."

"Well I didn't, so how would I know?" she shrugged.

"No, clue, but you still should have."

"Whatever, you coming?"

"In a sec," he moaned.

"Ok," Jaden chirped. "Meet us in Maylin's room."

"'Us'?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Jaden said slowly. "All of the smart girls were up and fully awake when the Elves brought Frodo from the Ford and the others followed them. So we're just waiting for you so we can go together and see what's up." She dodged a pillow. "See ya there!" Then she quickly closed the door to deflect a second pillow and left.

"Look who finally made it!" Leigh hooted at Jack stumbled into the room. "Did you get all your beauty sleep?"

"Oh, yes, can't you tell?" he asked striking a pose.

"Sure, now sit down," Jaden grinned.

"Is there something specific that we're supposed to be discussing here?" he asked.

"No," Maylin shook her head. "Right now we're just trying to use time until we can see the Hobbits. We figured that there was plenty of time seeing as how Frodo won't wake up for, like, three days."

"So tell me again what the point was of waking me up from a perfectly good nap?" Jack asked.

"We got bored," Jaden grinned. "So we drew sticks to see who would go and risk life and limb to wake you up."

"Well, did you enjoy yourselves?" he snorted, sitting down on a cushion he spied nearby.

"Immensely," Maylin grinned.

"Glad to be of service," he yawned. "So... what now?"

"We could have a rock paper scissors tournament," Jaden suggested.

"Already did that," Maylin replied.

"Twice," Leigh added as she gazed blankly at the ceiling.

"You know," Jaden frowned. 'This is worse than waiting for Christmas."

"I know," Jack agreed.

"Aw, hush, you just got here," Maylin retorted.

"Yeah, because I did the smart thing and SLEPT!" This time it was is turn to meet the brigade of pillows thrown at him.

"The pillow is a truly wonderful weapon," Leigh mused.

"Yes," Jaden agreed.

By that evening, the four had broken company, each going out to find their own means of amusement. Jaden ran off to find a good tree to climb that presented a challenge, Jack decided to at least attempt to continue his disturbed nap, and Maylin and Leigh went to library to see if they could focus enough to get in some studying.

"Studying!" Jaden had said the first time they had suggested the idea. "This is like summer vacation here, people. You don't 'study' when you don't have to!"

Nonetheless, the library had become the joint hangout point for the two eldest members of the little company. Both wanted to greatly improve their elvish so that they might possibly be able to converse with more of the Elves who didn't speak the Common Tongue in Lothlorien. What's more, a bit more map skill never hurt anyone. Bilbo had often joined them there, helping them with their lessons and asking questions about they themselves in return. He really was pleasant company, and they had come to look forward to their time with the pleasant little Hobbit who seemed to know everything there was to know about anything that he had the slightest interest in.

Of course, they didn't really expect to see him that evening, expecting hin to be with Frodo, keeping Sam company at his bedside. So, it was with great surprise that they greeted him as he strode into the library along with a very sullen looking Samwise. Both girls leapt to their feet when they spotted them and blinked questioningly at Bilbo for an explanation.

"Ah, HERE you are!" he said heartily. "I've been looking for you all afternoon. I 'm afraid that Sam here and I need a bit of distraction at the moment."

"Why aren't you with Frodo?" Leigh asked in confusion.

"Believe you me," Bilbo laughed. "I'd be there if I could, but Gandalf and Lord Elrond shooed us out so they could try to help him."

"That makes sense," Maylin nodded. "Where are our manners, Leigh? It is a great pleasure to meet you, Samwise Gamgee."

"I... it's a pleasure to meet you, too," Sam stammered, looking at the two of them in surprise. "You already knew my name?"

"Yeah," Leigh paused. "I'm sure Gandalf will explain more about us to you and the other Hobbits later..."

"For now," Maylin said. "Don't worry about it."

"Sam," Bilbo said excitedly. "These are Leigh and Maylin (Maylin is the Elf), they just recently arrived here as well along with two friends of theirs... where are Jack and Jaden anyway?"

"Oh," Leigh sighed. "Probably off doing something reckless that they know we wouldn't approve of..."

"Jack is taking a nap and Jaden went out after a tree that looked like fun climbing," Maylin explained. "Besides, Bilbo, you know that they never come in here with us."

"Ah, yes," he mused. "I did forget about their aversion to anything that resembled work..."

"We have the same problem," Maylin shrugged.

"We just don't see it as work," Leigh finished.

"Oh dear! We forgot all about poor Sam, here!" Bilbo cried. "Sorry about that, lad."

"Does this Jaden like gardening?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Nooooo," Leigh frowned. "Not as far as I know."

"_I_ like gardening," Maylin smiled.

"You do!" Sam asked. Maylin grinned, the thought had really never crossed her mind that Sam might have missed discussing such things with people who understood him... well, one couldn't fit everything in a book, now could they?

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I had a little garden in my front yard when I was a kid that I took care of, and then I had a vegetable garden out back for awhile."

"Did you ever grow potatoes?" he asked.

"I think I tried to once, but it rained so much that..." And then she and Sam were engrossed in a conversation on the difficulties of rain, much to the amusement of their companions.

At that time, Jaden had found herself the perfect tree. It was an ancient old thing, with branches larger than the trunks of many trees back home. Hand-grips and foot-holds abounded and there were numerous, safe-looking notches in which one could take a break during the long climb. All the trees where she was from were young, scrawny things that these trees would scoff at if they could speak... who knew? Maybe these trees COULD talk. Talking trees or no, she hopped off the ground and latched onto the lowest branch, which was a good foot above her outstretched arms. Her palms wrapped around the comforting, rough bark of the weathered tree and she began swinging back and forth to gain momentum so she could get her legs up with her arms. This was why she preferred climbing trees alone: she generally looked like a monkey while she tried to get her feet up, and it was really, really distracting to have to listen to all the snickers and/or teases that would always come with such behavior while trying to prove that Sir Isaac Newton was wrong, and that not all things that went up had to come down.

Having secured an upright position on the branch, Jaden started to make her way upwards into the lofty heights of the magnificent tree that she had chosen. This was the easy part, just stepping in the foot-holds and pulling herself up by the mighty branches until she reached the upper branches that would give her an amazing view of the surrounding valley. That was another good thing about the trees in Middle-Earth, they all offered such wonderful views from their peaks. At home, all the trees could offer was a slightly elevated version of her normal view of the world.

From her perch in the branches, she heard two voices chattering below her on the trail she had used to reach her tree. It sounded like they were some distance away, but from this height, directly below was some distance away, so that didn't really mean much. Curious, she slipped down between the sheltering branches until she could see the ground beneath her clearly.

Two figures were conversing... two small figures. Immediately, Jaden felt relatively certain that they were two of the newly arrived Hobbits that they had sweated in anticipation for in the room together. Oh, wouldn't the others be jealous! Sam was probably still with Frodo, and neither of the voices belonged to Bilbo, so that left the wonderful, adorable, and utterly cute Merry and Pippin. In her own opinion, they were the best characters in the entire story, hands down. Yeah, the guys were all rugged, handsome and all that jazz, Gandalf was inspiring and sweet, Frodo and Sam were brave, and determined... but Merry and Pippin were just so CUTE and funny!

With slightly shaking hands, she ventured a little lower to hear what they were saying. Maybe she could even strike up a conversation with them or something! Of course, it depended on what they were talking about and what kind of mood they were in. She didn't think that it was very wise to go disturbing some important little gab that they were having with each other in the belief that no one was listening...Occupied with her thoughts, her foot slipped on a branch and she fell a couple feet before grabbing onto another branch that broke her fall.

"Who's that?" Merry demanded, looking up as a shower of leave trickled down over him.

"It's probably just a squirrel, Merry," Pippin stated.

"No, I heard somethin' and whatever made it was much bigger than a squirrel," Merry hissed.

"Oh, for crying out loud, it's just me!" Jaden yelled down from the tree. Scurrying down the rest of the way, she hopped down to earth in front of them and brushed a few leaves out of her hair.

"And who might you be?" Pippin asked, tilting his head.

"I'm Jaden, or Jay, whatever you like," she shrugged. "My other friends call me by both. I'm also a guest here, my friends and I got here fairly recently, too."

"You're not an Elf!" Merry exclaimed, pointing to her ear. Jaden flicked it and grinned.

"Nope, just a Human," she laughed.

"I'm Meriodoc Brandybuck," Merry said introduced himself. "But my friends call me Merry. And that's Pip."

"Peregrine Took, ma'am," Pippin said. "But everybody just calls me Pippin, or Pip, like Merry does sometimes."

"I'm so glad to meet the two of you!" Jaden smiled.

"Might I ask," Pippin inquired. "What you were doing in that tree?"

"Oh, I was just climbing it," Jaden explained.

"How did you get your legs up there?" Pippin asked.

"Pippin," Merry scolded. "I'm sure she doesn't feel like answering silly questions like that!"

"Oh, it's no problem!" Jaden replied. "I'll just show you." With that, she repeated the process that she had performed earlier to get up onto the first branch, much to the admiration of the Hobbits.

"We've done that before!" Merry cried. "Only with smaller trees of course..."

"It's a pretty common technique," Jaden agreed. "But it's very practical, works nearly every time."

"Not for Merry it doesn't," Pippin giggled. "You should have seen him the time that he..."

"Pippin!" Merry knocked him in the ribs.

"Sorry."

"How long will you be staying?" Merry asked.

"Um... not too long," she replied. Gandalf's voice broke through the calm silence of the evening, causing both young Hobbits to jump in surprise.

"Can we see you again sometime?" Pippin asked quickly.

"Sure," Jaden grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

"Great," Merry smiled. "We should go, Pip, before old Gandalf gets aggravated looking for us."

"See you later!" Pippin called over his shoulder.

"See ya later!" Jaden shouted back.

With a broad smile on her face, she headed toward the library in search of the two friends that she knew were awake. It would have been a lot of fun to wake Jack up to tell him, but he'd probably just be ticked that they had woken him up earlier for nothing, and now she had had all the luck of running across two of the new arrivals. Thus, she went to find Maylin and Leigh, who were almost certainly still deeply buried in some ancient, Elvish book that she wouldn't be able to understand in a million years. Hopefully this news would show them that it did indeed pay to have fun once in a while... of course, then they'd just point out that they would all be seeing a lot of each other in the weeks to come, and steal Jaden's thunder... oh, well. It would still be fun to see the looks on their faces.

"Guys!" Jaden called as she spotted them hard at work on some random transcript that had remained stowed on the shelves for the past Age. "You'll never guess who I just met!"

"Santa Clause?" Maylin winked.

"Whatever," Jaden replied. "I just met Merry and Pippin! They were so cute! Just like I always thought they'd be... and... and... they were so CUTE!"

"Looks like we've all had adventures tonight," Leigh smirked. "We just met Sam. Bilbo brought him to distract him while Elrond and Gandalf saw to Frodo for a while. You'll never guess what Maylin and Sam have in common."

"What?" Jaden asked quizzically.

"Gardening," Maylin said as she continued to scan the book before her.

"No way! That is so cool!" Jaden giggled.

"You do know that you're acting like a crazy fan-kid, you know right?" Leigh asked.

"I don't care," Jaden sighed, pulling up another chair beside Maylin and her book.

"Has anyone else noticed that so far everything pretty much looks like the movie, but is running like the book?" Maylin asked.

"Yeah, I've noticed that," Leigh mused. "At least we know everyone when we see them."

"Only characters that it showed in the movie," Jaden pointed out. "We didn't know Glorfindel, and there have been a few other random Elves that were mentioned in the books that I didn't know..."

"Back on topic," Leigh grinned. "How did Merry and Pippin react to you?"

"They want to see me again sometime," Jaden said, trying (and failing) to appear casual.

"I'm sure that you were simply over-whelmed with joy," Maylin smirked.

"You guys should meet them," Jaden announced. "Maybe we can go looking for them tomorrow or something..."

"I don't have any plans," Leigh replied.

"Me neither," Maylin shrugged. "Sounds like fun. I'm sorry that we can't introduce you to Sam just yet, but I think that he will be slightly occupied with watching over Frodo like a hawk."

"That's ok," Jaden said. "I can wait until the feast to see him and Frodo. I think I'd rather meet those two together anyway."

"You're just too excited about meeting the two other Hobbits that anything and everything else in the world can wait for awhile," Maylin laughed.

"Oh, you're time will come,"Jaden glowered. "Just wait until YOUR favorite character arrives.. Then it'll be MY turn to torment YOU about it."

"I'm safe," Leigh laughed. "I don't have a favorite character! I have some that I like more than others, but I don't have a specific _favorite_ or anything."

"Just wait until you meet everyone," Maylin retorted. "We'll see what kind of impact they have in person, I hear that it can cause a much stronger reaction than on paper..."

"Uh-huh, yeah, whatever," Leigh replied. "I think I'm gonna hit the sack for tonight. The Elven letters are starting to all look the same, and my eyes are developing a life of their own."

"Good night, Leigh," Maylin said.

"'Night!" Jaden said.

"See ya both in the morning!" Leigh called as she walked out of the shady, evening-cloaked room.

Maylin smoothed down the rich fabric of her 'fancy' gown, knowing all the while that this was the kind of thing that the other Elves wore every day. Not that the other clothes she had been given to wear weren't fancy, it was just that this one took the cake of the 'fancy' department. It fell in Light green, velvet folds from her hips to the floor with tiny, intricate patters swirling down its entire length. Her sleeves were tight until they reached her elbow, where they flared around her wrists. The border around the deep neck-line eliminated the need for any jewelry to decorate her throat.

Only in her dreams had she ever worn such a fancy dress, it put her prom dress to shame with its stunning details and exquisite material. She was girlishly excited about seeing her friends in their own lively getup for the great feast that was to be held in an hour or so. It really wasn't fair that they had known exactly when Frodo would wake up, and thus, what day they should get up early to get ready on. Jack was the only one who wasn't going to extreme lengths to make himself presentable along with the rest of Rivendell.

In all their time there, none of them had even bothered trying to hold a candle to the continual splendor that seemed to radiate from the Elves that constantly surrounded them. Of course, then they had spent their evenings plotting how to make themselves gorgeous for the feast that would be held the evening of Frodo's recovery. To the extent of her knowledge, all three of the girls had spent the entire day up to this moment, washing themselves until they were totally and completely spotless to match the Elves, getting into their dresses, and trying to figure out how on earth to do their hair. It was like they were going to the prom together or something.

A knock thudded on her door and she shouted, "Come in!"

Jaden slipped in and smiled at her friend's finery. Really Jaden's own was breath-taking as well, with dark green and earthy browns that highly complemented her short cropped and highlighted brown hair. That hair must have been the talk of the town when they had first arrived. The neck formed a broad 'v' that echoed the similarly shaped belt that was clasped around her waist. The sleeves were floor-length and also came to points, complementing the design of the other sections of the dress.

"You look awesome," Jaden grinned.

"So do you," Maylin exclaimed.

"You both do," Leigh said as she stepped in behind Jaden.

"Right back at 'cha," Jaden complimented.

"You look beautiful," Maylin nodded.

The dress that had been given to Leigh had a bodice and skirt of deep blue and highly embroidered, sheer sleeves that fell in water-like ripples around her. A scoop neck emphasized the flowing contours of the dress and added a final, elegant touch.

"So," Jaden asked slowly. "Do ya think we're any competition for the Elves tonight?"

"I think we might be," Maylin giggled.

"Ah," Leigh raised a finger. "But you ARE an Elf, so you've got an advantage in this."

"True, very true," Maylin agreed. "Everybody ready?"

"All set," the other two nodded.

"Me, too," Jack said, popping up behind them.

"Wow, Jack," Leigh laughed. "Who knew that you could possibly clean up so well!"

"If this were at any other time," Jack replied. "I would throw something at you for that."

"Well then I'm very glad that I said it now," Leigh stated, heading out the door.

"You're outfit looks like a darker version of Leggie's," Maylin said to him as they passed out of her room.

"Just make sure you remember not to call Legolas 'Leggie,'" Jaden reminded her. "You won't have to worry about that until tomorrow, though."

"He could be there tonight, the book doesn't say," Jack mentioned.

"Good point, Jack," Leigh agreed. "Be ready for anybody tonight... except Boromir.. We know that he won't get here until 'the grey hours of morning.'"

"Book-quoter," Jack muttered the long-standing joke he shared with Leigh.

"Movie-junkie," she replied.

"Really," Maylin dramatically rolled her eyes. "The two of you are acting like freshmen, for goodness's sake! Can't you ever behave?"

"No," they answered.

"And I am a freshman, actually," Leigh grinned.

"I meant in high-school," Maylin waved a hand.

"Well I'm a freshman in high-school," Jack grinned.

"Whatever."

"Welcome," Glorfindel said, bowing them into the room. "I was afraid that you would be late."

"Since when have we ever been late for a meal?" Jaden demanded.

"True," Glorfindel confessed. "The two young Hobbits have requested that you sit with them and their friends. I am afraid that you must sit near a Dwarf, but they were so insistent that when the places were set they could not be denied."

"Oh, that's fine," Jack grinned. "I'm sure that Merry and Pippin will prevent poor Gloin won't be able to get a word in edgewise!"

"Ah," Glorfindel smiled. "I knew that your early knowledge of events would show itself sometime."

Jack blushed as he realized that no one had told them who the Dwarf was.

"Does Gloin know of our... err... abilities?" Leigh asked.

"Yes," Glorfindel nodded. "Nearly everyone in this room has been informed of the unique circumstances under which you arrived here. You may feel free to speak as freely as you otherwise would."

"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel," Leigh curtsied, feeling that the formalities were more important here than in the wilderness.

"And you are more than welcome, Lady Leigh," Glorfindel bowed. Leigh straightened.

"Errr... I'm no 'lady' in case you don't remember..." Leigh frowned. Glorfindel laughed.

"Not by birth, but all of you are worthy of the titles of lord and ladies in the eyes of the Elves, and others assembled here," he smiled.

"That's gonna take some getting used to," Maylin said, raising her eyebrows.

"Look, not to be really rude or anything," Jaden snickered. "But our dear, short little friends are trying to wave and get out attention."

"Than I shall see you this evening after the meal," Glorfindel bowed once more and strode to his place by Lord Elrond.

"Interesting," Jack said with a false accent. "Very interesting."

"Sit down, shut-up, and just eat, Jack," Maylin laughed.

"More easily done than said," he bowed, then plopped down and began munching on the food piled before him.

"We thought that the four of you had gotten lost!" Pippin said indignantly to Jack. Merry elbowed him in the ribs. "What?" Then Merry jerked his head at the approaching ladies and both of them fumbled to their feet and tried to bow politely.

"Good grief, you two," Jaden laughed. "They're just dresses!"

"These are Frodo and Sam," Merry said.

"Maylin and I had the pleasure of meeting Sam already," Maylin said, nodding at him.

All four dipped quick curtsies or bows before Frodo before sitting down.

"Pleased to meet you, Frodo," Leigh said. "In case Merry and Pippin didn't already tell you everything you could ever possibly want to know about us, we should probably introduce ourselves. My name is Leigh."

"I'm Jack."

"I'm Jaden."

"My name's Maylin."

"Maylin's an Elf," Pippin whispered loudly in Frodo's ear.

"Yes, Gandalf told me already," Frodo told his cousin. "I'm very pleased to meet the four of you as well. Gandalf told me about you."

"So Glorfindel told us," Jack nodded.

"So that's what kept you at the door so long!" Merry exclaimed.

"Yes," Jaden said. "Heaven forbid we should prefer to talk over eating."

"What a novel idea," Jack said around a mouthful, earning a cuffing over the head from Jaden who sat beside him.

Conversation somehow kept up throughout the meal in spite of the bounteous food that surely could have kept even a Hobbit busy indefinitely. Frodo soon dropped out of their ring of chatter, though, to speak with Gloin who sat beside him. As soon as he did this the four travelers turned and grinned at each other. The lack of one member of the conversation did not slow it down in the least. Merry and Pippin were talking eagerly of their homes in the Shire, but speaking as though their new friends had already been there and seen everything that they were describing. To some extent this was true, but there were a few little details that were new that could not have been put in the book. It was so weird to be sitting there discussing the best color for a door with Hobbits... the four unanimously decided that it was green, and not yellow as Merry insisted.

"Leigh," Maylin asked quietly. "Have you seen Aragorn at all since he arrived?"

"No," she frowned. "Come to think of it. It seems like he's almost avoiding us or something."

"Perhaps we should try to track him down and talk to him sometime this evening," Jaden suggested, letting Jack carry on the conversation with the three remaining Hobbits.

"You want to track down a ranger?" Maylin laughed. "I don't think that you'd find him if he didn't want to be found. Remember, even though he isn't in the wilderness, he was raised here, so I betcha he knows more hiding places than you do."

"Good point," Leigh agreed as she leaned on her elbow. "I guess we'll just have to trust to luck once again."

"So far luck has been rather good to us," Jaden bobbed her head. "I guess we can always lean on it a bit longer."

"Will you be coming to the party afterwards?" Pippin asked Jaden.

"First off," Jaden giggled. "I wouldn't exactly call it a 'party' and yes, I'll probably be going."

"Would you like to come with us?" Merry asked. Jack had to grin, they always said 'we'.

"Sure," Jaden shrugged.

"Doesn't Lady Arwen look beautiful?" Maylin whispered in Leigh's ear as they stood up to follow the crowd out of the feasting hall.

"Yes," Leigh replied. "Somehow beautiful seems like an understatement though. That's why I didn't say anything earlier."

"I know what you mean," Maylin nodded. Leigh began to veer off from the main group and head down a separate hallway. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to come with us and listen to the singing?"

"No," Leigh shook her head. "I'm going to go off by myself for a bit, if you don't mind. There's something that I've been wanting to do since I got here."

"Do I want to ask?" Jack asked, stepping out of the flow of traffic.

"It's nothing like that," Leigh rolled her eyes. "It's just one of those things that you always wanted to do when you read the stories and..."

"It's a moment that you would rather savor alone," Maylin beamed. "I understand completely. Go, have your fun or deep moment or whatever. See you in the morning!"

"See ya," Leigh replied as she returned her attention to the hall she had stepped into.

It had taken a while to get anywhere near comfortable walking alone through the endless corridors of Rivendell. Several days had gone by before she was even good enough to go from her quarters to her friends' without an Elven guide to help her find her way. After that, it had taken her an entire afternoon to find this one, specific room that she was looking for. It was well hidden in the maze of halls and rooms, and by four in the afternoon she had begun to despair. When she had found it, it had seemed like some great victory that she had achieved, but then she had simply left it, to return when she was reasonably sure of being alone.

The room was dimly lit by starlight when she entered, and Leigh wondered why she hadn't tried looking for it from outside. Probably a pointless quest, but it seemed logical at least. She had timed her visit well, there appeared to be no one in the room, or even in one of the nearby rooms or halls for that matter. With a quick glance into the corner to make sure that there was no ranger sitting there smoking a pipe while reading some wonderful book, she slipped into the evening darkened room. The first thing that she looked at was the fabulous mural that spread across a third of one wall. In it, Sauron was frozen for eternity, holding his mace above his head for the killing blow, and beneath him, Isildur was captured raising the hilt-shard of Narsil above his head against the mighty Dark Lord in a last, valiant gesture of defense. A gesture that would have massive impacts on the future of the brave prince's world. The painting had always captured Leigh's imagination whenever she saw it in the films, and she had wanted to get her own house just so that she could have it painted on one of her walls. It was truly beautiful, not just inspiring. So many times, she had pictured herself in that painting, holding the infamous shard aloft against that mighty foe. But only in her dreams were such thoughts anywhere close to real... and now they just might come awfully close to being the real thing.

A moonbeam shot off of the gleaming metal behind her, and Leigh turned slowly, reverently to gaze at the shards of that once mighty sword that had been shattered in that epic battle so long ago. It was one of the most inspiring things that she had ever seen in her life, and she paused, unsure whether or not she was worthy to approach that ancient weapon of the valiant kings of the Second Age. Longing won over, and she stepped forward slowly until she was looking straight down on the sword fragments. It was strange how much beauty and power could be held in something so broken. For a moment, her hand flickered forward to stroke the hilt of Narsil, soon to be Anduril, Flame of the West. But it paused not far from her side and slowly slid back into place beside her.

Not taking her eyes off the sword, she backed up from it a few paces, until she was near one of the walls once more. Completely absorbed in her adoration, she became oblivious to the shadowed evening around her.

"Greetings, Lady Leigh of the Wild," a voice interrupted the silence. Leigh jumped at the unexpected noise and quickly turned to see the man leaning easily back in the shadowed corner near the door.

"My lord Aragorn," Leigh hastily dipped a curtsy. "I am sorry, I did not know that you were there. I should leave now."

"No," he replied. "I am the one who is sorry from disturbing your reflections, my lady. If you wish to be alone, it is I who should leave."

"No, no, I'm sorry," Leigh stammered, surprised and unsure. "I just thought that I was alone is all. I didn't mean to be rude..."

"I apologize for not making my presence known... it is simply a habit to go unnoticed."

"I've gathered that."

"You seemed deeply intrigued by the sword... It was interesting to watch."

"It is a beautiful sword, my lord," Leigh mumbled. Aragorn laughed.

"Somehow I doubt that you would go to the trouble of coming alone to this place in all of Rivendell, just to see one 'pretty' sword. Your feelings run deeper than that, I saw them on your face while I was watching."

"Might I ask _why_ you were watching?" Leigh asked, feeling extremely embarrassed to have been seem gazing at the sword.

"I wanted to know," Aragorn frowned. "what the nature was of the young prophets who could so quickly change our world." Leigh studied her feet closely. "And I must tell you, that I was very impressed by your genuine love of this world and those who live in it."

Leigh looked up at the tall, old ranger and smiled slightly, feeling very shy, knowing that this was a humongous complement from a soon-to-be-king. "Thank you, my lord."

"I believe that we are both rather late for this evening's festivities," Aragorn grinned. "And I do believe that we shall both be missed. Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the Hall of Fire, so that we may both face the disappointed Elves, Hobbits and young people together?"

"It would be my honor," Leigh curtsied.

"No," Aragorn flashed her a smile. "It would be _my_ pleasure to escort such a brave young woman."

They left the room that held the ancient sword and Leigh knew, deep in her gut, that she had just made a friend that evening.


	7. Council

Disclaimer: Up to this point, I have not owned LOTR, and up to this point that hasn't changed. It didn't change, it isn't changing , and it never will change. Ya happy?

A/N: Hullo! Consider this one to my loyal reviewers, both here and on Intotheabyss! Warning: this next update includes the hints of ships to come!

Council

Jack didn't even bother trying to sleep in for once. He knew very well that at least one of his friends would be pounding on his door at some unheard-of hour in the morning to bring him to one of their rooms for a meeting before the infamous council of Elrond began. Things seemed to be going along with the books, so they didn't have to worry about standing up and saying something grand, heroic and honorable that simply stated that they planned on joining the Fellowship. But, it was still wise to have a quick council of their own before the grand event took place so that if they should be asked something, they wouldn't end up all speaking at once and stammering like idiots.

The morning air was slightly chilly as he stepped out of his door into the grey dawn that was beginning to break around him. Grey dawn... hmmm, had Boromir already arrived? Or was he about to come galloping around the corner? Boromir was a subject that they hadn't really discussed, all of them knew that he was a great and honorable warrior, but the shadow of what he would soon do loomed threateningly on the horizon and put a bit of a damper on any fond thoughts of him. Of course, if they somehow dissuaded him from attacking Frodo, then the Hobbit might not run off alone and decide to attempt to reach Mordor by himself. That would cause difficulties... big time.

The soft slap of bare feet made him look over his shoulder at the figure approaching him in the dim light. It was Jaden, she looked like she was already fully prepared for the Council, with long, stately robes that resembled the robes he had seen male Elves wearing on occasion and her hair resembling something closely related to the term 'neat'. Of course, like the others in their little troop, she was taking advantage of the lack of people around and skipping around bare foot. Jack sighed. At the Council there would be many high and mighty Men, Elves, Dwarves, and even Hobbits, and then there they would be, four high school and college students.

"Morning!" Jaden greeted. "You actually got up without one of us having to wake you up! I'm shocked!"

"So am I," Jack replied. "I guess the whole deal with the Council kinda got to me."

"It's getting to all of us," Jaden agreed.

"Question? How do we know we're even invited?" Jack frowned as the thought struck him.

"Maylin and Leigh were told by Lord Elrond last night before we left," Jaden grinned, "I guess they didn't tell you."

"No."

"You do have to cut at least Leigh a break though," Jaden sighed. "I would be a bit distracted too if Aragorn had just walked me half way across Rivendell." Jack shot her a look. "Oh, stop that! I'm not in love with him, I don't even have a crush! He's just really cool and stuff, that's all!"

"I'll trust you on this one," Jack laughed. "I don't think that any of us are planning to mess up the story like that."

"Duh. Now hurry up, the other two are waiting for us in Leigh's room," Jaden said.

The tension in the air when they entered felt thick enough to cut with a knife. Leigh was sitting cross-legged on the bed, while Maylin had pulled up a chair and they were already debating when Jack and Jaden entered.

"Well what if they _do_ ask us something?" Maylin was demanding. "What do we do then?"

"They won't," Leigh frowned, "I don't think that Elrond would let them, or would stand up for us if someone did."

"Fabulous, then they wouldn't believe us," Maylin pointed out. "We have to think of something."

"May I ask what exactly it is that we're supposed to think up?" Jaden asked as she strode in.

"Maylin thinks that at least one of the non-Elven council members will ask for us to say something that proves that we do actually know the future," Leigh sighed.

"They will, just watch," Maylin argued. "Gloin isn't exactly the trusting sort, if you think about it. And I wouldn't put it past Boromir either, for that matter. Any one of them could ask the question. Oh, and Gimli! Don't forget Gimli!"

"How could I with you shouting his name in my ear?' Leigh asked. "She wants us to think up something that we could say that won't mess up the entire story or anything like that. We have to think of something that would impress the Dwarves or Boromir, because we don't know which will ask us, maybe they both will."

"What about mentioning the whole Denethor-hates-Faramir thing?" Jack suggested.

"Anybody could know that who had seen them together," Jaden said.

"I think that I've thought of something for Boromir.. Depending on when he asks, before or after his little speech thing," Leigh put in.

"What?" Maylin leaned forward.

"His dream, we know all the details before he says them," Leigh shrugged. "Pretty easy. The Dwarves are another matter..."

"You can say that again," Jack muttered.

"The Dwarves are..."

"AI! Stop that!" Jack yelped. Leigh gave a mischievous grin.

"You said I could say it again," she whined.

"Children," Maylin scolded. "Behave."

"Yes, mommy," Jack whimpered, earning a pillow to the face from Maylin.

"Ok, seriously, you guys," Jaden laughed. "What should we do if they ask for proof?"

"Act like we didn't hear them," Jack suggested. WHACK! Yet another pillow to the head.

"Maybe they'll believe us if we get Bilbo to help convince them, they trust him," Maylin suggested. "And if anyone thinks of any nice bits of background knowledge, please share it."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Jaden saluted. She dodged out of the room to avoid the pillow that was tossed in her general direction and strode to her own room down the hall to get some shoes.

Leigh walked with her other two friends to the door and saw them down the hallway. Bored, she leaned against the rail overlooking the gateway that they would soon be leaving through. The stars were still glittering above, reluctant to leave the world to the rule of the mighty sun which was beginning to creep over the Eastern horizon. Everything seemed so peaceful and quiet... probably because the Hobbits weren't awake yet.

Hoof beats reverberated inside the calm courtyard as a galloping rider approached. Leigh looked up half-knowing who it was that was about to come thundering through the gateway. As she had expected, a large horse burst into sight with a strong, cloaked figure sitting astride it. Boromir of Gondor had arrived as expected.

Boromir reined in his horse very movie-like and swung down. A group of Elves had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and greeted him as others led his horse away. In Rivendell, all races were friends.. At least supposedly, the Elves and Dwarves must have considered themselves immune to that unspoken rule. Leigh wondered what was going through Boromir's head at that moment, was he surprised at the beauty of his surroundings, as she had been? Was he feeling cocky, thinking that Minas Tirith was just as grand (even though it wasn't)? The books had never had any section from his point of view, the only things she had to go on were the feelings of others towards him. Maybe that was why there was so much debate over the nature of Boromir's character.. no one really knew what he was like.

As he was being led off by his Elven escorts, Boromir chanced to look up... straight into Leigh's eyes. She hurriedly broke off the intense gaze and slipped behind a column that shielded her from the look of the Gondorian. Deep inside, she felt eternally grateful that Aragorn hadn't turned such a gaze on her... his would undoubtedly have been far worse, and Boromir's was bad enough. So, she had been the first to see Boromir and Aragorn, Jaden had been the first to meet Merry and Pippin, and both she and Maylin had had the privilege of meeting Sam before the others. Jack was falling behind, it came from sleeping too much.

She was not looking forward to seeing all of those peering eyes at the council later that morning. They might not be meant to make her uncomfortable, but they succeeded. They all wanted to know what she knew, wanted her to tell them something. And she couldn't tell them.

The rest of the earlier morning slipped by in a tense blur, the only notable event being breakfast. All four of the company ate a larger breakfast then normal, knowing that it would be awhile before they got another meal, and that it would be really embarrassing to have your stomach growl in the middle of some important speech or whatever. Leigh and Maylin cornered Bilbo early on and told him of their possible predicament with the Dwarves and asked for his assistance should the need arise. He happily agreed and insisted that they sit next to him during the Council, to which Maylin replied that they would most likely just sit where they were told.

They left Bilbo and regrouped with their other friends so that they could at least be together when they were called to the Council. There was an undeclared bond that had sprung up between them, and, in the future, it had been pretty much decided that they would do everything in their power to stick together, especially during trying times like the Council they were about to face. It seemed to them that there was a certain safety to be gained in numbers, so they tended to stick to at least one of the others at all times like glue.

As soon as they entered the Council chamber, Jaden felt her heart fly into her mouth. There were only three seats left together, and she knew that they were for Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo. The other chairs were scattered about the gathering like so many islands, and she knew that they would each be sitting in one of them, far from the other members of their party.

Leigh also noticed the problem. She quickly caught Glorfindel's eye, jerked her head towards Jaden and began trying to figure out where the rest of them should sit. Glorfindel swiftly left his seat and ushered Jaden to the empty seat beside him, which she quickly accepted with a grateful grimace that had been intended as a smile. They successfully settled Jack in with the other Elves as well, and then looked at each other to see who would take which of the remaining seats. One was located directly between the Elves and the Dwarves, a hot spot to be certain, but at least she would be sitting with Elves on at least one side. The other was located in the middle of the Men and Dwarves, a place full of prying and curious eyes that seemed designed to weigh and measure a person by their looks and appearance. Leigh gave a slight wince and nodded Maylin over to the seat by the Elves, while she headed toward the seat awaiting her. Great, just great, she thought, as if things could possibly get worse. A shred of their luck did remain to them, though, and Boromir sat a couple seats away to Leigh's right, for which she was eternally grateful.

When Frodo, Bilbo and Gandalf entered, they were greeted with a nod from all four of the 'prophet' company. Gandalf and Bilbo both gave them an encouraging wink that seemed to say, "It really isn't that far across the room, you can still be there for each other. And even if something _does_ happen, we'll be there to give you a helping hand out." The speeches were far more interesting in person, they found, and a couple of them found themselves biting their tongues to keep quiet and not start quoting the book along with the speaker. Leigh glanced to her left as the council member beside her moved. She couldn't help the slight grin that flickered over her face as Aragorn sat down beside her and gave a wink to help sooth her nerves.

"There is another," Elrond smiled briefly, "_several_ other factors of which you are not aware. Four young people have come to Middle-Earth from a land that is far distant from any realm of which any of us has visited, and they were brought here against their own wills by the Dark Lord..."

"And why would the Dark Lord want four _children_?" Boromir asked.

"For information, Boromir," Gandalf frowned. "They know things that no one could possibly know about such things as the future and the history of many things that are known only to the Wise."

"And how could they know these things?" Boromir questioned. "Are all children prophets in their world."

Leigh was getting extremely ticked off with being referred to as a 'child' and be spoken about as if she wasn't there. As if sensing her tension, Elrond rose and addressed the man. "Perhaps one of them might answer such questions, they are members of this Council, and I insist that they be treated as such." Boromir ducked his head quickly in submission.

"I shall speak for myself and my friends if they would agree," Leigh stated as she rose, preparing to play her trump card. All of the others nodded hastily and watched with baited breath, knowing what she was about to do. Leigh strode over to Boromir, leaned forward, and said in a low voice which only he could hear, "There was a dream your brother had, and you as well. The eastern sky became dark, and there was the sound of growing thunder. But a pale light still lingered, and from it a voice cried out to you... Do I need to continue, Lord Boromir? Or are you satisfied?"

Maylin had been enjoying watching Boromir's eyes grow steadily wider until he nodded in mute wonder to something Leigh said. She grinned. For once, she envied Leigh her position of speaker. The feeling passed quickly though.

"I shall not ask for Lady Leigh to describe all that has happened to herself and her comrades, for it would be strange indeed to most of you, and it would only distract from the purpose of this council," Elrond declared. Leigh turned and began to walk back to her seat.

"If I may ask one question, my lady,"Gloin rose. "How was it that you escaped from the clutches of the Dark Lord? For he rarely loses his prey, and none have I seen that have escaped and not shown signs of grievous battle."

"If, my _lord_," Leigh hissed. "You are implying that we are in or were in the service of Sauron, then I would tell you that we escaped due to His underestimation of our abilities, much like the other members of this council. We would be dead or worse at present if we had not escaped, and we have offered what services we can to those who rescued us from the woods we ran through to escape. And if anyone doubts our loyalty, I would ask them to have a private word with us after this council has concluded." Several heads bowed. "We escaped by rubbing the rope tied around our hands with a rock for a rather long period of time, and I have the scars to prove that." With that, she plopped down into her seat and met any inquisitive eyes with a hard glare.

Jaden and Jack looked like they couldn't be more proud at the moment, and, for the first time that morning, had lifted their heads to look their fellow council-members in the eye. Gandalf was suppressing his warm, confident smile almost completely while Bilbo looked like he was ready to stand up and applaud her. The title of 'Elven lady' had never suited Maylin better as she sat there with her head held high and the light of triumph gleaming in her eyes. Aragorn gave her a nod of approval as she resumed her seat beside him.

It took most of the rest of the council for Leigh to get a rein on her temper. She had hoped for better from Boromir, and the fact that such an important Dwarf as Gloin had dared to even suggest that they were servants of Sauron had ticked her off big time. If she had bothered to notice, she might have noticed the change in the way people looked at her and the others. They now looked without the blatant curiosity and scoffing, and now there was something like respect and perhaps surprise in their eyes as they regarded the young people who sat among them. As Leigh's temper cooled, the Council began to reach the final stages of discussion, with Bilbo finally taking an active role in the conversation.

As Frodo declared that he would take the Ring to the fires of Mordor, Jaden thought that she was going to cry. It had always been an emotional part for her, but it was even worse in person, she wanted to jump up and hug the little guy, but she resisted the temptation and just smiled her warmest smile at him instead. She knew what was to come next, the long weeks of sleeping outside, eating cram, and trying to go along without being noticed by the many spies that swarmed about Middle-Earth. But at the moment, she was just happy to see the simple courage of one young Hobbit against such a great evil. When Sam spoke up, and Elrond replied with one of the best come-backs of all time, a nearly inaudible snicker slipped around the hand she had clamped over her mouth. For that moment, she was happy, not because of some great thing ahead in the future, not because of some distant memory, but because of the scene of loyalty that was playing out in front of her.

"You are late, Leigh," Glorfindel informed her as she stepped out into the practice ring.

"Yeah, sorry," she shrugged. "The other three kept me busy."

"Did not," Jaden replied.

"Whatever," Leigh laughed. "Can we please get on with the lesson? Elrond wants to speak to us later, and it would probably be best if we didn't appear in sweaty, practice clothes. Besides, I'm tired right now."

"As you wish," Glorfindel mocked, giving a perfect bow.

"Game on," Jack whispered to Maylin under his breath, she snickered.

Glorfindel drew the artfully curved sword from its sheath at his hip in time to block Leigh's first strike toward his ribs. She swung again at his legs and was parried once again before flipping into defensive to block the blow he threw at her head.

"Be nice!" she yelled. "I'm not thousands of years old!"

"Are you suggesting I take it easy on you?" he asked with a smirk.

"Do you think that the orcs are gonnna take it easy on me!" she replied. "I'm just saying that I do need to be able to walk and think clearly after this, so don't try to kill me!"

"That would translate into taking it easy on you," he replied sweetly. Leigh grumbled something about mischievous Elves and protected her left side from a fresh attack.

"Bye, Leigh!" Jack called.

"Bye!" she cried. "What do you mean 'bye'!"

"We're leaving," Maylin smiled. "It looks like you can handle Glorfindel by yourself today, and we want to do a few things so... bye."

"Have fun without us!" Jaden called over her shoulder as she left.

"Some friends you are!" Leigh exclaimed. "I save your tails at the council, and now you leave me to be butchered by an Elf!"

"Yeah," Jack said. Then he turned the corner and all four of them were gone from sight.

"I know where you sleep!" Leigh warned, but they were gone, and she had to focus on the attacking Elf lord before her. After at least a half hour had ticked by, Leigh plopped down on the ground and demanded a break. "This isn't fair, and you know it. I don't stand a chance!"

"And since when has that stopped you in the past?" Glorfindel quirked an eyebrow.

"Forget the past," Leigh waved a hand. "I live in the present."

"Perhaps," a voice mused. "She is simply no match for an ancient Elven lord."

Leigh whirled to see Boromir standing there with a broad grin across his face. "Are you offering then?" Glorfindel asked.

"Indeed," he replied, setting his cloak and massive shield against a wall before unsheathing his sword.

"No," Leigh backed up. "Glorfindel, no."

"I am sure that he is much closer to your level of experience than I," Glorfindel teased.

"Oh that's it," Leigh said, rolling her eyes. "Just stand there and laugh while I get killed! I already have bruises upon bruises for crying out loud, how much more practice do I need to have in one day!"

"While you may have practiced," Boromir responded. "I have not had the opportunity to practice against a living opponent for some time. Now, draw your weapon, my lady."

"Crud," Leigh hissed.

While Boromir was really much closer to her skill level, he was still much too good for her to have any hope of beating. To make matters worse, he wasn't even trying to take it easy on her and she had her sword knocked out of her hand every five seconds. For the next half hour, her world consisted of parries, thrusts, and slashes, mostly the foremost. At least Glorfindel was enjoying himself, every other move he made some comment that was supposed to help her defend herself, but really only distracted her, and of course, then he would laugh as soon as Boromir took advantage of the moment and sent her sword spinning away.

"I believe that Lady Leigh has had quite enough practice for one day," Elrond spoke up as he appeared through the doorway.

"My Lord Elrond," Glorfindel bowed. Boromir echoed the movement, with a grin on his face that reminded Leigh of how a mischievous child looked when caught in the act of doing something naughty.

"I was looking for her as well as her companions," he paused and smirked. "When they said that she was practicing with Lord Glorfindel, I knew that I should hurry if she were to have any life left in her for the meeting."

"Their fault," Leigh groaned from the floor, pointing to the Elf and Man.

"I gathered that," Elrond laughed. "Now, if you would be so kind as to come with me, or we will keep the others waiting."

"They can wait," Leigh muttered as she struggled up.

"Just think how prepared you'll be to fight your first orc!" Glorfindel teased as he helped her to her feet.

"If all orcs fight like you I'm doomed," she replied tartly. "Especially if they also bring in reinforcements like you do."

That evening, Maylin sat happily on the thick branch of one of the many trees around Rivendell with a book filled with lovely, elvish poems in it. Jaden had told her that she needed to go outside more, and Maylin had decided that this counted. Jaden had been so ticked off, she'd bluntly informed her friend that she was still READING and that it really didn't matter where you did that. Maylin couldn't care less, Jay was off with the Hobbits, Jack and Leigh were asleep, and she had a good book at hand and a lovely moon that provided plenty of light for reading. What more could she possibly want?

As she was reading tear-jerking verses that told the lay of Beren and Luthien, she heard a melodic voice sound beneath her on the ground.

"I apologize for disturbing you, my lady," the voice said.

Maylin quickly looked down and found herself staring down at Legolas. "That's alright," she replied. "I'm sorry if I distracted you in anyway."

"Hardly," he replied. "I was actually looking for you. I thought it best to introduce myself, since we will be traveling together for some time..."

"Ah, yes," she nodded, "we are both on the Fellowship. My name is Maylin."

"I am Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil," the prince bowed.

"Oh, trust me, I know," Maylin laughed.

"Yes, you are one of the seers that were found in the wilderness. It is difficult to remember that when you and your friends are so young."

"Not to be rude," Maylin smiled. "But even the ancient of the Human race would seem young to you."

"Very true," he admitted."But you are not a human."

"Well I was up until recently," Maylin frowned. "So I still think of myself as one."

"I meant no offense," Legolas said smoothly.

"No, no," Maylin waved the comment away. "It's just that... I'm still dealing with some things like that is all."

"I cannot imagine, my lady."

"I agree," Maylin giggled. "At least, I didn't get younger physically, that would have been REALLY weird." Legolas threw back his head (not that it was very far back, he was already looking up).

"It would have complicated matters, for certain," he chuckled. "Would you like to join me on the ground? Or are you extremely fond of trees?"

"No, I'm not," she smirked. "Just wait a minute, I'm not quite as talented as Jaden when it comes to climbing trees."

"Then let me be of assistance," Legolas said. In a few swift motions, he had climbed up to where she was climbing down from her perch. She blinked in surprise.

"Th-thanks," she stuttered. "I guess that's why they call you Greenleaf."

"One must keep in mind that I am an Elf that was raised in a forest," he pointed out with a warm smile.

"Well," Maylin grunted, "I've only been an Elf for a very short amount of time, and I was NOT raised in a forest."

"I gathered that," Legolas agreed as he hopped to the ground. "Here, just let yourself drop down, I'll catch you."

"Where I come from," Maylin laughed nervously. "That is called a 'trust fall' and I just met you, and, even though I know a lot about you, I don't exactly, fully trust you with my neck quite yet."

"I understand," Legolas nodded. "But I believe that if you do NOT trust me, then there is a much higher chance of you breaking your neck."

"Good point, good point," she sighed. "Ready?"

"Indeed, my lady," he called up to her.

Maylin sucked in her breath and sent up a quick prayer to the Valar. Then she let her hands fall slackly off of the safety of the reassuring roughness of the tree's bark and dropped downward in free fall. There is a point in every trust fall, where the person who is doing the trusting knows that there is no way back, that they can't stop themselves, and must absolutely trust the person they are counting on to catch them. As she passed that point, a brief light of panic dawned behind her eyes, and she felt certain that she wouldn't be able to see the rest of Middle Earth, and that she was going to die, right then and there. She was going to go splat on the hard ground and pop like a pinata all over the ground and her poor little neck would snap like a twig.Then she landed in Legolas' arms and she blinked in surprise.

"You seem surprised that I held to my word and caught you," Legolas commented.

"It's nothing about you," she replied quickly, afraid that she had offended him. "It's just that, where I come from, at least half of the guys there would have let me just hit the ground and then stood there laughing about it."

"I assure you that Elves do not pull such pranks here," he reassured her. Then he swung her onto her feet and she once again stood there blinking.

"Thank you."

"Thank _you_ for the conversation," Legolas smiled and bowed. "Good evening, my lady."

"Good evening, Prince Legolas," Maylin replied with her own curtsy.

"Please," Legolas said. "Call me Legolas. If we are to be companions on this quest, then we should be less formal with each other."

"Only if you just call me Maylin," she grinned.

"As you wish it, Maylin," he bowed one final time. Then he turned and strode off into the evening darkness.


	8. Companions and Preparations

Disclaimer: Read me lips: I do not own any smidgion, no matter how small, of The Lord of the Rings. There, got that?

A/N: Merry Christmas! here is my present to you, my great readers, do I really need to bother saying what I want for Christmas? Ok, ok, I want some nice, long reviews! Bash for all I care, just so long as you say something! I think (think) that this is a fairly long update. I don't know for sure.Just so you antifluff people out there know, the fluff begins to grow thinner from here. After this is when they actually (gasp) leave Rivendell!Anyways! Merry Christmas, and enjoy the fic!

Companions and Preparations

"You fought with _who_?" Jaden giggled hysterically.

"Boromir of Gondor," Leigh repeated, throwing a blade of grass into the stream.

"Excuse me while I giggle," Jaden snickered.

"Don't push it, the whole thing was entirely your fault," her companion muttered irritably.

"Not entirely," Jack pointed out from the rock he was perched on. "All three of us had a hand to play in that."

"Hmf."

"Has anybody seen Maylin?" Jade asked as she watched the blade of green bob away on the rushing water.

"No," Jack replied. "She's probably just getting a little sleep, being an Elf and all, she probably stayed up until some unheard of hour of the morning reading or whatever it is Elves do."

"Is that envy I hear in you tone, Jack?" Leigh grinned.

"Maybe."

"Why do we say that water is 'rushing'?" Jaden asked.

"Pardon?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"We always say that it's rushing, but where to and why?"

"You could ask that about a lot of people," Leigh snickered as she lied back in the soft, green grass. "I guess it's rushing to the sea."

"All water flows to it," Jack agreed.

"Why is it in such a hurry though?"

"Who knows?" Leigh shrugged. "Just one of the wonderful mysteries of nature."

"I never liked science class," Jack frowned.

"Why not?" Jaden asked.

"It gives away too much, it's like someone telling you the end of the story when you're just starting the book, or seeing how the magicians pull off their tricks," he frowned.

"I agree," Leigh said to a passing cloud. "I think the world needs to keep it's mysteries, otherwise, what is there to fascinate us? Does anyone else think that the cloud over there looks like a turkey?"

"A _turkey?_" Jaden asked.

"Yeah," Leigh insisted. "See? It's head is over there, and then the blob is the body, and then there are the tail and legs."

"I think that it looks like a seal, myself," Jack disagreed.

"Whatever, I'm hungry," Leigh sat up.

"That makes two of us. Let's go and find something in the dining hall to eat or something," Jack suggested.

"'Or something'? What are we going to do? Have a food fight?" Leigh snorted.

"Well I second Jack's idea for one," Jaden popped up onto her feet and tugged at Leigh's hand.

"But I like to sit," she whined.

"That's great, you can sit while we eat, now come on!" Jaden insisted.

"You do know that the two of you will never be able to get me up from this spot, right?"

"Oh, c'mon!" Jack said. "It was you who said that you were hungry in the first place!"

"Not quite hungry enough to move just yet," she replied.

"We can eat with the Hobbits," Jaden coaxed.

"Ok," Leigh piped, and suddenly bounced up onto her feet.

"Everybody loves the Hobbits," Jack smiled.

"Not everyone," Leigh replied as they plodded toward the kitchens. "The dark powers don't."

"Everyone who's GOOD," Jaden smirked. "Even Boromir has a major soft spot for them."

"Hmmm."

"Now," Jack pondered. "If I were a Hobbit, where would I go?"

"To the kitchens," Leigh suggested. Jaden snickered.

"You're not actually going to try and look for them are you?" she giggled. "That would be like looking for two needles in a rather large haystack."

"I was being sarcastic," Jack snorted.

"Aren't you always?" Jaden frowned.

"There are no pillows nearby to get you with."

"You're right," Jaden grinned. "So I can be as smart as I want to!"

"There are plenty of rocks though."

"I'll behave!"

"Would you two try to act mature?" Leigh giggled through her teeth. "There will be other people behind this door, you know."

"There are people on this side of it too," someone said behind them. All three whirled to find themselves facing a grinning Aragorn.

"Lord Aragorn!" Leigh smiled. "I believe you have developed a rather bad habit of sneaking up on my friends and I."

"So it would seem, my lady," he chuckled.

"We were just going to get something to eat," Jaden put in. "Would you like to come with us?"

"I think that I would enjoy that very much," Aragorn replied. He stepped ahead of them and held the door open for them, ushering them inside. Each of the three passed by him and dropped a mock bow or curtsy to coax out a grin.

Inside of the dining hall there was an strange mixture of peoples gathered together. Dwarves, Men, Elves, and Hobbits were all gathered around the tables, usually with their own kind, eating the midday meal. It seemed like a larger and more relaxed version of the council. Pippin spotted them coming and hopped up to guide them to the Hobbits' table, as if they were some prize at the end of a race that he had to reach first.

"Jaden! Leigh, Jack!" he hollered. "It's great to see you again! You'll sit with us right!"

"We were just looking for you, in fact," Jaden laughed. "Of course we'll sit with you. Just so long as Aragorn is invited as well."

"Oh! Of course, of course!" Pippin squealed. "Sorry, Strider! I didn't even notice you!"

"Oh, he excels at that," Leigh smirked.

"I don't think we've met all these people yet," Jack muttered in her ear. She lifted an eyebrow.

"You making a list, Jack?" she asked. "Anyone in particular?"

"Well, Gimli for one," he replied softly. "He IS going to be on the Fellowship and all, so it would probably be best to talk to him sometime. All we've seen of him was at the Council, and that wasn't exactly prime conditions for making good friendships. Oh, and Legolas as well, we have to meet him."

"Naturally," Leigh nodded.

"And the REST of us haven't met Boromir yet," Jack added.

"You remember what I said earlier about a food fight?" Leigh asked.

"I think I'll drop that subject," Jack mused.

"How wise and considerate of you," Leigh muttered.

"Well I for one would like to know what it is you were talking about," Aragorn said behind them.

"Oh it's a wonderful little story!" Jack laughed. "I think it would be best if I told it to the Hobbits as well!"

"Do you value your life, Jack?" Leigh hissed. Aragorn cocked an eyebrow.

"She got the living daylights beat out of her," Jaden snickered.

"Jay!"

"What? I'm just telling the facts!"

"It's just the way you put them!"

"What are you all talking about?" Maylin asked as she trotted up.

"If you had hung out with us this morning you would have known," Jaden said flatly.

"Where were you?"

"Day dreaming. Can we have this discussion another time, please?"

"Sure," Leigh said with an evil smirk.

The Hobbits quickly rearranged the seating situation so that both Merry and Pippin had a seat next to Jaden. Aragorn and Frodo exchanged laughing looks and everyone settled in and began selecting food from the table before them. The talk was easy and casual, filled with happy, trivial matters that held no importance to the fate of the world, and was thus a welcomed relief for the stressed table companions. Near the end of the meal, something, or rather someone, plopped down next to Leigh. She turned her head in startled surprise and gave an inquiring look to the Dwarf who was sitting beside her. It was Gimli of all people who was now beginning to fill his plate beside her.

"I felt that it would be proper to introduce myself to you," the Dwarf stated, "seeing as how I'm now a member of this Fellowship as well. We have 'met' once before in the Council, but I fear that we did not have the best of feelings between us there."

"Indeed not, Gimli son of Gloin," Leigh snorted, a tinge of anger in her voice. "Your father is a very honorable warrior, and I was deeply grieved that he judged my companions and I so harshly."

"A mistake that I do not seek to repeat," Gimli said.

"I am very glad of that," Leigh smiled. "For I believe that you would be a very formidable enemy, and it would be a great waste to spend the many hours we face together in hostility."

"Then may I offer a toast?" Gimli rose and lifted his cup. "To the friendship of the Fellowship! May we fight the hordes of Sauron together, instead of fighting each other."

"To friendship!" the other members present cheered.

"To friendship!" another voice echoed. They all turned to see Boromir striding towards them across the hall. "It seems that I am late for a rousing speech by master Gimli."

"Yet just in time to have a drink!" Gimli motioned to the bench beside him and Boromir sat down next to the Dwarf and gladly accepted a glass of wine.

"What was that story you were talking about earlier?" Merry asked Jack.

"Oh, just something rather funny that happened to our dear Leigh yesterday," he grinned wickedly.

"Jack," Leigh hissed pleasantly under her breath. "Are you fond of spiders in your bed?"

"We left poor Leigh to fight off Lord Glorfindel all by her lonesome," Jaden giggled.

"Yes, I know this part," Maylin nodded across the table.

"Well, after he had sufficiently proved that he was a far superior swordsman for a good while," Jack added, "it seems that lord Boromir here came and decided to extend the lesson awhile longer."

"I took advantage of lady Leigh's exhaustion and Lord Glorfindel's teasing mood," Boromir laughed loudly. He turned to Leigh. "I do apologize for taking such advantage of a lone woman, my lady."

"Apology accepted," Leigh said flatly. Maylin burst out laughing.

"Do try to remember, lord Boromir," Aragorn said. "That you might not want her angry with you during a battle. She just might let you fend for yourself."

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't need MY help," Leigh rolled her eyes. The Hobbits snickered.

"If you would excuse Leigh and I," Maylin said. "I would like to have a word with her alone."

As Leigh rose from the table, Boromir quickly rose to his feet in salute. She cast him a quick glance and found that he was pretty much staring at her. The other men at the table followed suit a bit more slowly with exception of Jack who was having a silent giggle-fest along with Jaden. The look Boromir had given her made Leigh uneasy, probably because she couldn't put a name to it. Clearing her mind of the Gondorian lord, she hurried after Maylin and swept out of the door and into the empty hallway.

"I met Legolas," Maylin said as they stepped into her room.

"That's great! But why did we have to come here for you to tell me that?" Leigh asked suspiciously.

"I don't know," Maylin paused. "It just felt right I guess."

"Ok then, give me the details, here. I'm waiting," Leigh said.

"I was in a big, old tree reading..."

"Nothing unusual there."

"... and Legolas just walked up below me and started a conversation."

"That's nice."

"Anyway, then he asked me to come down, and he helped me climb most of the way... then he had me jump and he caught me."

"That's... different."

"I know," Maylin nodded. "That's what I thought."

"Somehow I think that there were a few other thoughts spinning through that head of yours," Leigh smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maylin demanded.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Leigh replied.

The evening air was cool and pleasant as Jaden stepped outside. A book was securely snuggled under her arm and she was off to find a quiet room or glade somewhere that lacked beings of any race. She truly loved being with her friends, and stuck to them like glue most of the time, but, like any teenager, she felt that she needed to have a bit of time alone sometimes, and it seemed reasonable to believe that she wouldn't be getting much privacy of any sort in the months that were to come. The thought of overprotective men, crazy Hobbits, and one loud Dwarf didn't exactly sound like quiet company even when they weren't running from some great danger that was out for their blood. That evening the four had dispersed to do any last minute packing, sleeping or sight-seeing that they had not yet completed, for they left the following dusk. Jaden had chosen to enjoy her last night alone with a single book and resounding silence for company. No one would be looking for her, everyone would be doing similar things and also wish for privacy from their companions, so it seemed to be a good time to get away. None of them had really talked about what would happen after the War of the Ring, there was a silent, shared fear that they might not all be there to see the end of Sauron together. Even if they all survived, what would they do? Any knowledge of what was to come would be rather limited, and it was unlikely that they would be viewed as valuable after that.

With a quiet sigh, Jaden pattered around the corner in her bare feet in pursuit of a quiet sanctuary for the evening. Leigh had warned her not to stay up to late, because they WOULD be walking a good way the following morning, so it would probably be best if she wasn't so tired that she held everyone back.

"Jaden?" Bilbo asked as he stepped out of a doorway. "I was looking for you."

"If it's alright, Bilbo," Jaden smiled, "I'd really rather not have a long story session with you tonight, I would really like to be alone this last evening."

"Oh, I know, I know," Bilbo nodded. "Don't worry, I'm not so selfish as to ask that of you on your last night here. Actually, I wanted to tell you something... and give you something as well."

Jaden frowned in surprise and followed the old Hobbit as he scuttled off towards his room. As she walked in the door, he was pulling something out from one of the many drawers in the furniture of his room. That was a thing with Bilbo, whenever he wanted to surprise you all he had to do was open one of those drawers, and he would bring out some fabulous object from distant lands that he had found during his travels or been given by one his Elven friends since coming to Rivendell. And of course, with every artifact, there was some wonderful story that told all about the marvelous thing. Jaden now waited with baited breath like a five year old waiting to see what grandpa would pull from his closet of wonders in the spare bedroom. Bilbo fetched out a bundle that was wrapped in old cloths and hidden from her sight. Then he perched on the edge of his bed and waved her to a seat on the floor in front of him, and, once again like a child, happily complied.

"You probably know that I plan to ask Frodo to keep some notes and thoughts for me during his travels," Bilbo began. When Jaden nodded vigorously he continued, "But I would ask something of you, Jay."

"I would love to do anything to help you, Bilbo," Jaden grinned.

"I should very much like," Bilbo smiled faintly, "for you to keep a journal of the events that happen around you. I had a journal during the latter part of my mission with the Dwarves, but of course you know that already. All I ask is that you right down things that you see, or how you see them, write down things that interest you that you see or hear. The written word is a powerful thing, and I think... that it should be a great loss... for these adventures that are soon to unfold... to be forgotten with the slow passage of time, like so many other things."

Jaden felt a faint, warm mist spread over her eyes as Bilbo unwrapped the bundle in his lap to reveal a finely crafted, leather bound journal. "I can't thank you enough, Bilbo," she whispered. "I'll make sure to write whenever I have the opportunity for it. This is truly a great honor."

"I ask you," Bilbo said, "because, even though the others might be more learned in the ways of books, you seem to have a love of noticing things around you, and not always being in the center of the commotion, but watching things unfold from the wings. Don't get me wrong, I am very sure that you will be needed on this quest, but I thought that this journal was best left in your hands." Jaden received the journal and held it over her heart.

"I will do my best, sir."

"And that, I am quite sure, is far more than enough."

Leigh sighed in quiet contentment as she watched the stars dance overhead in their glittering glory. The night was still and calm and all seemed well in Middle Earth. The grass below her was soft and thick, providing just as good a bed as she had in her room. Her advice to Jaden might have been hasty... they weren't leaving until dusk after all, and they could sleep in a bit in the morning probably. She wasn't sure that she would be able to leave the twinkling company of the stars until the morning sun began to bleach them away, and that event was still many hours in the future.

"Lady Leigh?"

She rolled her head to the side to see who had found her. With a yelp, she realized that the voice beside her belonged to Lady Arwen. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet and made a hasty curtsy to the great Elven lady who had suddenly appeared next to her.

"My lady Arwen," she stammered.

"Please," Arwen said quickly. "Please sit, and for the moment call me simple 'Arwen' for I come to you not as a noble of the Elves, but as a woman like yourself, who is in love."

"You are referring to Lord Aragorn," Leigh frowned. "Surely, Arwen, you know that I _cannot_ and _must not_ tell you anything pertaining to the future."

"Oh, I know, do not fear," Arwen smiled. "I come simply to ask... to ask that... You are going to be with my beloved on this perilous quest, and I would ask, as a friend, that you watch over him for me, since I cannot be there to care for him in person."

"You're asking ME to keep an eye on ARAGORN?" Leigh laughed. "If anything, he should be keeping an eye on _me_. He is a great lord, my lady, and I am nothing but a young woman who is in a place far from home who had been mistaken for a prophet. I believe that you are asking the wrong person."

"No, I am not," Arwen persisted. "You may be young, indeed, but you are wise beyond your years of life, and it would put my mind closer to what you might call rest to know that you were at least attempting to keep him from harm." Leigh gave a small smile.

"Just so long as you understand that I probably won't be able to do much if true danger comes," Leigh agreed. "But I shall try to keep him safe... at least as safe as one can be on such a quest."

"Thank you deeply, Leigh," Arwen smiled. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart. May the Valar watch over you as well as my beloved on the path you are to tread. May I stay and gaze at the stars with you for a while?"

"You are more than welcome to join me, Arwen," Leigh smiled as she leaned back into her former position on the grass. "It is my great honor to call you friend."

"As is mine."

Jack was thrilled that it was actually WARM when they left. Of course, he knew that the precious heat wouldn't last long, soon they would be traveling about in freezing cold weather, wishing only for a fire that they couldn't light without attracting danger. What a life. He had known that it would be that way from the moment he had arrived, he just hadn't thought about it, honestly, he had been trying not to think about it. Cold had never been his thing, and he was about to go tramping up a snow-covered mountain in the biting cold without anything in the way of modern conveniences like heaters of probably even _gloves_ for pity's sake.

Out of the four friends, he was the only one who had taken Leigh's advise and gone to bed at a reasonable hour, really, he hadn't exactly needed the advice, but still... he had been the only one to follow it. Jaden looked like she had fallen asleep sometime around midnight... and not in her bed. Knowing her, she had been doing one of two things: climbing a tree or reading a book. Leigh had actually had the hint of circles under her eyes that morning, they were gone by this time, but he still smiled at the thought. Of course, the great, Elven Maylin didn't need to sleep much at all, and had probably stayed up the entire night looking over Rivendell or something like that with no ill side effects the next morning. That was just unfair, that was all there was to it.

"Good evening, lad," Gimli greeted him. "Hope you slept well, you won't be seeing another bed for a good many weeks, if you ever do."

"Believe me," Jack moaned. "I know."

"Ready to head out?" Pippin bubbled to Jaden as they stepped down the stairs beside Jack.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she smiled. "Leigh should have taken her own advise, though."

"Just keep in mind that there are no pillows in the wilderness, my dear Jaden," Leigh yawned. "Thus, I will be using much _harder_ and _heavier_ objects to deliver my vengeance."

"Same here," Maylin called as she walked up. "Didn't sleep well, Leigh?"

"Didn't _sleep_," Jaden snickered. Leigh muttered something untranslatable and stalked off to help Sam put the finishing touches on Bill's pack.

"I didn't sleep either," Maylin shrugged.

"Don't start," Jack warned.

"Alright," she sighed.

"At least you haven't started doing strange things with your hair," Jaden giggled.

"You four are almost worse than Hobbits," Gandalf declared as he approached the three across the courtyard. "With your chatter I am quite sure that every living thing that draws breath that passes within five miles of us will hear every word you say."

"I thought nothing was worse than us," Pippin pouted.

"I said _almost_, Peregrin Took," Gandalf declared. "Believe me, there is nothing in Middle Earth that could possible out wind either you or that cousin of yours."

"Hullo, Jaden!" Merry called, as if on cue. "Do you need help with anything?"

"If she did," Pippin replied. "She would have told me first, because I'm the one that's been with her all afternoon."

"All afternoon?" Maylin cocked a laughing eyebrow at Jaden who offered an innocent shrug.

"Yep," Pippin declared proudly.

"Sam," Leigh smiled. "If you try to pull those girth straps any tighter, you are going to squeeze poor Bill here in two."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sam said as he quickly loosened the straps, Bill almost seemed to sigh with relief. "It's just that I'm..."

"What, Sam?"

"Well, I'm a bit nervous," Sam stated, "and of course I'm worried about Mr. Frodo (you know he didn't sleep a wink last night?), and, to be honest, I'm a bit scared myself, Miss Leigh."

"First off," Leigh replied, crouching down to his eye level, "anyone who isn't nervous about something like this, is quite honestly a fool, even Gandalf over there is a bit edgy. Secondly, if you didn't worry about Frodo I would be checking to see if you had a fever or something like that, because you _always_ worry about those that you love, Sam. Thirdly, I am personally terrified, both for myself and for my own friends. And _fourthly_ please _don't_ call me 'Miss Leigh.' Where I come from, you only address people like that if you live in high society or something, either that or you're really old, and I am neither. So for pity's sake, just call me Leigh, that's what all my friends call me."

"Thanks, M — Leigh," he smiled.

"You are very much welcome, Sam," Leigh grinned. "Now, let's finish up getting Bill packed and ready to go."

A/N: So? Good? Bad? Terrible? Wonderful? See that little button? No, not the chapter button! The other one! On the bottom left! There you go! Now... click on the button. I DO accept annonymous reviews, so if you are not a member or whatever, feel free, but if you a lazy bum who just hasn't logged in: log in! I like to know who you are so I can say things back to you! Happy reviewing!


	9. South to Danger

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN LOTR! There, is that good enough!

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! I also appologize for the (in my opinion) not-so-hot job I did on this chapter. It DOES get better than this, I swear! I know that's it's a horrible thing to ask, but bear with me! These next few posts are just some of those bits that need to be written, but aren't that good. Hope you understand. Let me put it this way: from Lothlorien on, it gets very interesting...

South to Danger

Jaden wiggled her toes, at least, she _thought_ that she wiggled them, it wasn't like she could feel them anymore. Tolkien had done some major understating when it came to the harsh nipping of the wind. Every time they passed by a lake or stream, Jaden was astonished that it wasn't frozen yet, actually, she was surprised her blood hadn't frozen yet. It had probably been technically colder than this back in the 'real world' but back then she had always been able to just run inside where the wonderful heater had kept the entire house at a nice, insanely hot temperature. Even when she went outside she had layers upon layers that she wore as she ran from the house to the bus and from the bus to the school. Now, she only had a single layer and a cloak. She had learned something about cloaks: while they might look awesome and be ok for mildly cool temperatures, they were nowhere near a match for a stiff wind.

Sleeping arrangements were set up by mere chance. If you were with friends, that was wonderful, you got to cuddle up in a group huddle at night to keep warm. If not, you were pretty much left to keep yourself warm unless one of the established cliches was feeling generous that evening and let you join their heating huddle. This generally happened when the wind was especially bad or the air grew swiftly colder as soon as the sun ran off. The Hobbits had a huddle, and the four friends had a huddle, the others were all the tough guys who pretty much would never consent to needing help unless they were on death's doorstep, some of them not even then. So the huddles were pretty much left on their own. And Jaden always found herself looking forward to the night when she could at least attempt to get somewhere in the vicinity of 'warmth' even if she didn't actually achieve true warmth in itself.

The long walks that she had been dreading were actually not so bad. The views that she saw during the endless treks were stunning to say the least. And her friends were just as bored as she was and were more than willing to talk as they walked so long as Gandalf wasn't yelling at them. Merry and Pippin were also wonderful company, one of them was nearly always tagging along beside her. Leigh and Maylin had picked up on the evident crushes of the young Hobbits, and they often used the subject for a conversation topic. On a serious note, they had taken her aside one evening and warned her to tread carefully with them, a Took or Brandybuck with a broken heart would be a major depressant for the entire Fellowship.

Those two weren't the only two to have noticed the infatuations of Merry and Pippin. Gandalf often turned to her with a twinkle in his eye on one of the rare occasions that one of the Halflings wasn't with her and, of course, Frodo and Sam found the entire scenario endlessly funny.

Gradually, the mood of the Fellowship darkened, some with the fear of the unknown future, and some for the fear of the evil the knew was to come upon them soon. All, however, were oppressed by the bleak cold and grey of their surroundings. Leigh had always found winter and the months just ahead of it to turn the colors of nature into a muted, grey-tinted hue that put a dampener on the spirit, but this was unnatural. The lack of any creatures making noise in the night put everyone on edge, consciously or unconsciously. It seemed to some that Middle Earth was dying here, that the very life had slipped away from it somehow, and now all that was left was dry death in the form of yellow grasses between the twisted trees and bare rocks. Poor Sam, it was a gardener's worst nightmare.

Maylin was asleep the time that the _crebain_ came, but as soon as she awoke, she could see what had happened by the looks on the faces of Sam and Aragorn. In the movie, the huge crows had always made part of her laugh and part of her shiver. It seemed so funny that these big guys with all of these weapons and such were so terrified of a pack of crows! But of course, there was something about them that seemed... not quite right, threatening. She wasn't laughing now. She was very glad that she had been asleep when they came, she had no desire to see more evil than she absolutely had to, and there would be more than enough of that yet to come.

Jack had been awake when the birds flew over. All of them had known that it was to happen that day, and during what watch, so the walk leading to that evening's camp had been far quieter than usual. It was so easy to strike up happy conversations when you knew you were safe, but as soon as the evil in the world showed its ugly face, words seemed to die before they could pass through anyone's lips. The poor Hobbits had been running around asking if they were all sick with something, and even Aragorn had frowned and checked to see if they had temperatures. Only Gandalf had guessed the cause of their mood correctly, a dark thought of the future weighed on their hearts and minds. When the birds had passed, Jack had held his breath in fear that they might see the rise and fall caused by the exchange of air. Even after they had passed by, he had stayed perfectly still, terrified that one might look over its shoulder and see him twitch. Never had he lain so still as he did then. Maylin had been forced to shake him roughly by the shoulder to get him to move from his bed roll when the others got up.

Other thoughts burdened Leigh's mind while thoughts of the _crebain_ filled her companions'. A great weight had settled on her shoulders with the knowledge that she and her friends now actually had to protect Middle Earth. It wasn't like they were just ordinary members of the Fellowship, they had come to save Rivendell from being razed in search of them. Anywhere they went they would be hunted nearly as much as Frodo and the Ring. It would be so easy to accidentally let something slip out, something that would change the story and let Sauron win the War of the Ring. Why had the Valar let them through when they were such a danger to the world they so loved? There were so many what-ifs and maybes that Leigh occasionally found herself having trouble focusing on what she was doing. Her life was worry. Worry about what they had already done, they had made the Fellowship thirteen, the unlucky number, worry about what she was doing, was the conversation she was having in any way threatening to the survival of Middle Earth? And constant worry about the future, what if they were captured, what if they died, what if they chose to go with the wrong group? What if, what if...

The day after the oversized crows flew over, Gandalf gently took Leigh's arm and led her away from the camp. His face was creased with a deep, worried frown and his eyes were fixed on Leigh's.

"I am concerned for you, Leigh," he said.

"I do not mean to worry you," Leigh said quickly. "I'll pick up my pace, or whatever it is that's slowing down the Fellowship..."

"Leigh," he replied softly. "It has nothing to do with anything like that."

"Then why did you want to see me?" she asked.

"You are worrying too much."

"Gandalf, it's not..."

"You have to learn to trust yourself," Gandalf continued. "Could something bad happen? Yes, it could, but that doesn't mean that you could stop it by worrying about it. Since you already know much of what will happen on this quest, you seem to think that you have to be prepared for _everything_ even things that you couldn't possibly know that concern yourself."

"I can't help it," Leigh moaned.

"Yes, you can," Gandalf insisted. "Trust that the Valar knew what they were doing by sending you here, trust that your friends are just as capable at protecting themselves as you are, and most importantly, trust _yourself_. Would you ever even think about letting someone know how this story ends?"

"No... except I worry about that."

"Exactly," Gandalf encouraged. "You _know_ you wouldn't, but you still worry about the possibility anyway."

"Thank you, Gandalf," Leigh smiled.

"You are most welcome," Gandalf replied. "You were beginning to make _me_ worry."

"I will try to make sure that your only worries about me are what mischief I'm getting into with Jay and Maylin," she laughed.

"And _that_ is enough worry," Gnadalf retorted.

After that, Leigh didn't have much opportunity to speak with Gandalf again. As they began to climb up into the mountains, everyone's attention seemed to be devoted to creating enough heat to survive. If conversation had lagged before, it flopped over and died now. It was eternally cold and the wind seemed to laugh at their attempts to get warm without a fire. Really, it probably wouldn't have been a good idea to light a fire anyway, Jack thought. The wind would have greatly increased the chances of a wild fire, and there was plenty around that could burn. The cruel wind seemed to have blown the very moisture from the leaves in their present surroundings.

"Is it just me?" Jaden asked Maylin. "Or does it seem that the farther we go, the bleaker everything looks and feels?"

"It isn't just you," Maylin replied over the wind's screams. "It's like the cold and wind murdered the land here."

"You do have such a pretty way of putting things," Leigh shouted from behind them.

"Well, if you can think of something pleasant to say about this land," Maylin called back. "Be sure to share it with us!"

Slowly, the four began to realize that they were being separated. Merry and Pippin seemed to hustle Jaden away with them to be with the Hobbits and Jack tended to go along with them, Maylin was becoming very Elf-like and walking a short ways off from the others, and Leigh tended to join in with the 'leader' group of Aragorn, Gandalf and Boromir. Soon, the only time that the four found that they were spending together much was when they slept in their huddle. After a while, the four began slipping from their groups and making jests at each other.

"You're so far away!" Jack would mock whenever Maylin swooped in closer.

"It is your smell that scares me off!" she would reply.

As Jack worked on freeing himself from a bad-tempered bush, Leigh would walk by and ask calmly, "So... how goes the war?"

Jaden didn't always _say_ something. You knew she was thinking of you though when something hit the back of your head and you turned to see her grinning a ways behind you. Pinecones were her favorite, but when they weren't around, clods of earth or a ball of leaves and grass did nicely.

For the short time that their antics lasted, smiles seemed to come easier to the other members of the Fellowship. It was easy to overhear the comments that the four gave each other in passing, and, on occasion, one of Jaden's missiles would miss the chosen target and whack into someone else's head or back. The Hobbits actually giggled a few times when Jack would get nailed by a sailing clod of muddy earth, or when one of their own would be hit instead.

Soon though, the happy atmosphere that defied the cold wound down and everyone bent their backs to continue up the ever-steepening mountainside. The only whimsical thought that entered anyone's head after a while was a passing thought in Jaden's mind that it was a shame that there was too much flying snow to see a proper target for a snowball.

Maylin began to grow concerned for her friends, while she was an Elf and wasn't as susceptible to the wind and snow, her companions were. After a while, Legolas began to notice her deepening frown and made his way over to her.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Not with me," she smiled. "But I'm kinda worried about my friends. They aren't used to this kind of cold, none of us are, but I'm an Elf, and they're not so... I'm just a little concerned is all."

"As am I," Legolas nodded. "None of the mortals can survive such cold for long, especially not the Hobbits, or ones so young as your friends."

"I wish that there was something we could do..." she trailed off. "Wait! I just thought of something!" With that, she left Legolas and trotted down the hill towards the shivering Jack. "Hey! Jack!" He looked up at her through snow-filled lashes. "Take this!" She handed him her cloak.

"Maylin!" he protested. "You need that!"

"As if you could forget! I'm an Elf! I don't need it!" she reminded him. "Now please put it one before you freeze." Jack slowly pulled it on over his own cloak and nodded his thanks.

"Good going," Leigh commented as she walked up. "He's the youngest, you chose well."

"I wish I had something for all of you," Maylin sighed.

"If you carried that many cloaks," Leigh laughed. "We'd have to throw you on Bill and haul you up the mountain."

"Good point," Maylin consented. "But there's no harm in wishing."

"Wish away," Leigh replied as she continued upward. "While you're wishing, wish me up some gloves! I forgot to pack some!"

The shelter of the cliff-wall was greatly appreciated by the Hobbits and the four friends. Despite Sam's comment, Leigh was far too tired and cold to even think about how clumsy their 'shelter' was. "At least we have a wall," she'd mumbled afer his remark about one wall and no roof making a house. Sam had looked at her with concern, and Leigh had managed a weak smile of reassurance that she was fine.

In truth, she wasn't. Jaden and Jack had been surrounded by Hobbits all day, which helped circulated heat between them, and Jack also had Maylin's cloak in addition to his own. Leigh had neither of those helps, she lacked an extra cloak, and the men weren't the type to huddle as they walked. The fear of frostbite had kept her hands wedged under her arms as much as possible all day long, and she feared for her toes.

'Everyone's cold,' she thought to herself sharply. 'Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you're no worse off than the others, the Hobbits are in a worse condition than you are.'

Her body was curled up against the cliff face as much as was possible while standing. She spotted Frodo beginning to go to sleep in a drift. She struggled to try and move toward him to wake him, but Boromir beat her to it, and she could barely move anyway. With a sigh, she fell back against the rock wall that soared on above her. The flask containing the _miruvor_ was passed around, and Leigh found herself having trouble lifting it to her mouth. Jaden, who was stuck a few yards away, noticed and yelled over the wind to Aragorn, who was standing nearby, "Leigh's not in good shape, Aragorn! I don't think that she can even get that flask to her mouth without help!" Aragorn turned to see and a deep frown settled over his face.

"I'll help," Boromir said swiftly, fighting his way over to the shivering girl.

"I'm alright," Leigh stuttered as she spotted him approaching her.

"If you were alright, my lady," he replied. "You wouldn't be having trouble with that flask." He cupped her hands in his and raised them with the flask to her mouth. She took a small sip and then handed (or rather let it fall) to Sam who was standing beside her with a concerned look on his face. Leigh thought that she could actually feel her toes for a minute as the wonderful drink surged through her. Boromir didn't leave her side, but pulled his cloak around them both to keep warm.

"I'm not dead yet," Leigh pointed out in a stubborn defiance.

"Not yet," Boromir agreed. "But if you don't get warmer, you will be soon." Leigh allowed him to extend his cloak around her, and she found that she was deeply grateful for his offer. The snow kept coming at them, and Leigh began to grow concerned for the Hobbits beside her. Boromir caught her looking at them and suggested a fire to Gandalf.

Jack began to grow frustrated with the wet wood that refused to light so stubbornly. He wanted to help his friends, he didn't get the chance to be in the leading position very often, but he wanted to prove his worth now. As the minutes slid by and now of them could get the flames going, Gandalf strode forward, picked up one of the pieces of wood, and cried out, "_Naur an edraith ammen!_" And suddenly the fire that they had tried to coax to life for so long leaped up in green and blue. Jaden actually cheered. Boromir brought Leigh forward as the others circled the happy little flames and drew her close both to him and the fire.

"I think that the fire should keep me warm enough, Boromir," Leigh smiled.

"With your stubbornness," he replied., "I can never be sure if you are telling the truth when it comes to how you are fairing. For the time being, I think it best if you stay with me."

The other three friends exchanged glances at Boromir's statement and a few smiles as well.

When the wind and snow finally died, discussion of how to get back down the mountain flared. As the 'original' members of the Fellowship had a serious discussion, the four friends began debating among themselves alternate ways to get back down.

"I think it would be fun to ski," Jaden said.

"Sledding would be the best way, with all of the supplies," Jack pointed out.

"True," Jaden agreed. "But I don't think that Bill would be willing to get on one."

"And you think that he'd get on skis?" Leigh giggled.

"We could go down penguin style," Maylin joked. "You know, lying flat on our bellies and sliding down..."

"I'm not gonna even comment on that one," Leigh hooted.

"I would suggest that we carry down the four ladies," Gandalf called out loud enough for them to hear. "But I have a hunch that they wouldn't permit it."

"Got that right!" Jaden shouted back. All of the men laughed.

"We each have two good legs and we're not Hobbits," Leigh added.

"And I can just walk on top of the snow anyway," Maylin grinned. _Then _the first snowball was thrown.

Merry and Pippin squealed with delight and began making rather amateur snowballs and piling them up as if preparing for a war. As soon as the Men had left, the war broke loose. Gandalf muttered angrily and took shelter out of the way slightly down the path the Men had made. Jade was the first to be hit by one of the weak snowballs and she actually scolded them about not making it correctly, she then took the next couple minutes to show them how it was done. This in no way hindered the others from enjoying themselves. Jack, Maylin and Leigh found themselves pitted against a ruthless Sam along with Frodo. Then Jules and the other two Hobbits added a third side to the battle and soon they were all flinging around as much snow as they storm had. Once, a very annoyed Gimli threw a snowball at Merry's head when one of the Hobbit's missiles hit the civilian. After that, they all heard the deep, hearty laugh, and Jack looked up over the drift he was hiding behind to see Gandalf chuckling at their foolishness before he was nailed by a well thrown snowball.

"Here we are," Maylin laughed, "in the middle of this dangerous situation and we're having a _snowball fight!_"

"Maybe we're here for comic relief until Gimli lightens up," Leigh suggested as powdery ball of whiteness exploded against the wall of the cliff. "That was close."

"Children!" a loud voice interrupted. All of the guilty parties peeked up over their defenses and saw Aragorn standing there with Boromir just behind him.

"He started it!" Merry cried as he pointed to Jack.

"Hey," Jack defended. "I just threw one snowball at Maylin for being a bragger."

"So you gave us the idea," Pippin replied.

"I believe that the mood has lightened considerably due to our young friends," Legolas said to Aragorn.

"And it was deeply needed," Gandalf added. "But now that the burrowers have returned, we must continue with our quest. Did you get through?"

"Yes," Aragorn smiled. As he relayed the story of how he and Boromir had plowed through the endless snow, the snow-fighters stood and brushed themselves off and shook hands with their opponents in a gesture of at least temporary peace.

"Come," Gandalf announced. "We must go now, there is some distance to go before the day ends."

And much distance they did indeed cover. Jaden began wondering how on earth she could have gotten so much snow in her boots. By midmorning, it had melted around her feet and she felt like she was walking through a bog with every step she took. Everyone else felt more or less the same, wet clothes, sopping boots, and numbed fingers made for exhausted hikers. By the time Gandalf called a halt several of the companions were more than happy to flop on the ground and try to go to sleep right then and there. Even Maylin found herself having difficulty getting the camp set up and rousing her friends who had flopped.

Her hands faltered as she began setting out rations on a convenient flat stone by her elbow. As she slipped her hands into the pack once again, and pulled them out trembling with a load of dried food two perfectly smooth hands enclosed hers. She looked up in surprise to meet two clear blue eyes looking into hers.

"You are tired," Legolas said gently. "Go and rest, I can handle this."

"I'm sure you're tired too," Maylin protested, shaking her head.

"Even though we are both Elves," Legolas replied, "I have lived far longer than you and have much more experience with long days of travel. You have not. Now go and rest, Maylin."

Mutely, she nodded, rose, and tottered over to where Jack was still stubbornly sleeping, despite Leigh's vain attempts to rouse him. When she saw Maylin approaching, she openly moaned and muttered, "Is everyone going to sleep? C'mon! This is very unFellowship-like of you!"

"I have orders," Maylin shrugged. "And right now I am more than happy to follow them."

"Who gave you orders to sleep?" Leigh sighed.

"Legolas."

"You have no idea how lucky you are," Leigh rolled her eyes.

"Oh yes I do," Maylin smirked as she rested her head on a patch of grass.

Leigh threw her arms up in the air and stomped off to find something useful to do. In the end she found herself helping Jaden and the Hobbits setting out the bedrolls and unloading Bill the pony with Sam.

"You had us worried up on the mountain," Sam told her.

"Believe me when I say that it was completely unintentional," Leigh laughed.

"I think you might have died if Lord Boromir hadn't helped you like he did," Sam informed her.

"You think so, do you?" Leigh said, trying to avoid the topic.

Jaden fell on her knees next to Jack and roughly shook him by the shoulders. "Wake up, pretty boy!" she yelled. "The beauty sleep is over!"

"Five more minutes," Jack said to the dirt.

"No, no more minutes!"

"C'mon, lad!" Gimli added. "Stop leaving all the work to the lady-folk!"

"Not very chivalrous," Leigh grined, "is he?"

"Did you hear that, Jack?" Jaden asked. "Leigh just said something mean about you."

"But it was the truth, wasn't it, Jack?" Leigh giggled.

"Of course," Jack answered, obviously not with it. Jaden and Leigh exchanged grinning glances.

"Oh, Merry and Pippin!" Jaden called. "Come here! Leigh and I are going to show you a game."

"A game!" Merry bubbled. "What kind of game?"

"Watch and learn," Leigh replied sagely. She bent over Jack and asked, "Oh, Jack? Where did the dog go?"

"Into the rabbit hole," Jack murmured. His tormenters bent double in stifled giggles.

"Where are we going tomorrow?" Jaden asked.

"Through the horse."

"Jack," Pippin ventured, "What color is the sky?"

"Yellow with pink dots."

"What on earth are you doing?" Gandalf asked the teasing comrades as he strode over to investigate.

"Watching the cow."

The observers broke into all-out hysterical laughter that jerked Jack out of his semiconscious state.

"W-what?" he stammered. Then he spotted the red faced girls and Hobbits around him and he began to put two and two together. "Oh, no," he gasped, "you didn't!"

"We did!" Jaden hooted. "Don't be mad, we all needed a good laugh, and you deserved it for copping out of work anyway."

"I don't think I'll ever take a nap again in my life unless I'm in a locked room," Jack groaned.

"That might be wise," Gandalf agreed. "With those two women on the loose, you never know what might happen."

After that, the mood once again mellowed and the debate over Moria sprang to life. Leigh kept a close eye on her friends to make sure that they didn't stray from the camp, she knew very well what was about to happen that night, and it would be safer if everyone stayed together. She had always loved seeing wolves in zoos back home, but she had never, ever wanted to meet a wild one, especially a wild one that was at least semi-intelligent that was set on killing her.

As the wind began to moan, the four kept their ears pricked for the murderous wail of the wolves. By the time Aragorn sprang up and called out the warning the group of outsiders had been listening to the wild wails of the wolves for about a minute. It was amazing how quickly they all moved camp. Jack swiftly built a fire and the girls scuttled about as far as was safe in desperate search of fuel for the flames that Jack was kindling. Without the wood, the fire would be a short lived defense against the approaching wolves.

"Leigh," Maylin whispered. "Aren't the wolves that are coming actually... werewolves?"

"Tolkien hinted at that," Leigh agreed as she flung down her load next to the swaying flames. "I'm pretty sure that _ngaurhoth_ means 'werewolves.' So, yeah, that's probably what they are."

"I have goose bumps."

"So do I," Leigh whispered in reply. "Stay close to the fire and have your sword ready."

"Oh don't worry," Maylin snorted, "I will."

Jaden found that she was having trouble sleeping. At least the others could dose, but she was incapable of even that. Well... Tolkien had _said_ that they dosed... but her friends probably weren't sleeping a wink either. Slowly, reverently, Jaden pulled out the journal Bilbo had given her and a quill. Quills had always fascinated her, the scratching sound they made when you wrote with them was so reassuring and unique. She uncapped her small bottle of ink, opened the journal, dipped the quill, and began to write.

_After only such a short amount of time, we have come through so much together that I feel unbelievable close to my three friends who were kidnaped with me. So far, we have hidden from monstrous crows that were sent as spies to seek us out, battled the harsh winds and snow of the Misty Mountains, nearly frozen to death, and now wait with sweaty palms for the attack of a pack of wolves that I think are actually werewolves, if I remember correctly. _

_I believe that there are at least two relationships that involve my friends that may just become more than friendship, one of them is well on its way. Boromir saved Leigh from freezing to death on the mountain and shared his cloak with her even after a fire had been lit (finally). Hopefully, I will be able to write more about this budding romance as it grows. My greatest fear is for what it might mean in the future. I know what Boromir is going to do, and I'm concerned about what Leigh's going to do. She's very stubborn but I don't think she'd go as far as to alter the story so severely. Something like that could change everything. Then again, they say that love changes everything, so I honestly don't know. There seems to be a lovely little bit of friendliness between Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood, and our own dear Maylin. Now THAT would be interesting._

_I'm enjoying this, it's fun writing about little things I see around me. But right now, I had better get some sleep. The wolves will be here soon._

Leigh rested quietly next to Maylin. She knew that neither of them were sleeping, but someone would probably yell at them if they got up and tried to do something. The sword the Elves had given her in Rivendell was sitting impatiently in its sheath by her side, made anxious by her restless hand that was lying on its hilt. When the wolves came, she'd be ready.

A howl split the uneasy silence of the camp and Leigh sprang to her feet along with her companions. The great, dark wolf was standing far too near for comfort. Why hadn't she settled them farther away from the break in the circle? Blast! That thing was close enough that she could see the nasty expressions that passed over its wolfish face. Gandalf stepped forward and warned the beast what fate would befall it should it try to attack inside the ring. It paid no heed. With a massive snarl, it leapt forward toward them and the four friends took an involuntary leap backward. Legolas's arrow shot through the darkness and pierced the foul thing's throat.

"Here we go," Leigh whispered under her breath. In a few hours the pack would attack, and then they would receive the true test of how well they had learned sword craft.

A/N: I am afraid that this is the end of this chapter! Can't wait to finish the next one! Please be kind and hit the pretty little review button!


	10. What We Mortals Must Face

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, if I did, I wouldn't need to say this.

A/N: Sorry for this chap. The next chapter should come sooner rather than later, because I just got to go and see a huge display of things that were used in filming (props and costumes!)so I am on a HUGE LOTR rush at the moment... Please forgive this chap! Be nice with your reviews, please, I already know it stinks. Anyway, it does get better, I promise! Please enjoy!

What We Mortals Must Face

Jack was trembling in barely suppressed terror as he waited in morbid anticipation for the attack that would come with the dying gasps of night. Under any other circumstances he would have been thinking about how long it had been since he had enjoyed a proper sleep. But at the moment, his only thoughts were those of edgy fear of the wolves that were prowling around the hill, out of sight but still there. He hadn't even bothered _pretending_ to sleep after that massive beast had popped its ugly head into the circle on the hill. The hilt of his sword was becoming slippery with sweat as his hand repeatedly grasped it in reflex.

"You all right, laddie?" Gimli grunted beside him.

"No," Jack replied.

"Never met a man who didn't get nervous before his first battle," Gimli noted.

"Oh, I'm WAY past 'nervous'," Jack laughed uneasily.

"I noticed."

"Why don't they just come and get this over with?" Jack whispered.

"Because they're smart devils," Gimli growled, "and they want us to sweat a bit and get all jumpy and worn out before they make their move."

Jack pondered this until the night stillness erupted into howls and cries of wolves on the hunt.

"Here they come!" Gimli roared.

"Fling fuel on the fire!" Gandalf yelled. "Draw your blades and stand back to back!"

Leigh paired off with Jaden and drew her sword out of its sheath. With her spare hand, she reached behind her and gave her friend's hand a warm squeeze of reassurance. "They probably won't even get this far," she soothed. "And if they do, Maylin and I'll get 'em." Jaden squeezed back and then gripped the hilt of her Elven sword with both hands. Leigh only needed one, due to the blade's lightness and her not-so-sweaty palms.

The 'taller' members of the Fellowship met the wave of claws and teeth with bared, sharp steel. Leigh didn't bother trying to count how many each one got, she had her own troubles to worry about. A grey pelted fiend had slipped past the defenders and was now prowling toward Leigh and Jaden.

"Jay," Leigh warned. "Now would be an excellent time to back up a bit."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to need a little more sword room than this. A wolf is coming." Jaden complied instantly and gave her friend a full yard between them, but also stood to face the wolf.

The beast lunged at Leigh's throat, but she sidestepped and sent the wolf sprawling across the ground. Jaden swung her blade and managed to gash it in the side before it regained its feet. With drool dripping from its fangs, the wolf glowered at the two girls who stood against it. Leigh took a step forward and shouted a challenge at it. With shocking speed, the wolf leapt forward and, while missing Leigh, knocked Leigh's sword away and sent her tumbling. The beast stalked over to the helpless figure and reared back for the killing bite. Jaden thrust her sword into the animal's ribs and Leigh grabbed the knife from her belt to stab the wolf's heart. With a last cry, the creature fell down dead.

Gandalf gave his great cry that sent flame upon the remaining wolves and the Fellowship looked about to see if their fellows were injured.

"I would very much appreciated it," Leigh said with forced calmness, "if SOMEBODY WOULD GET THIS HULKING CARCASS OFF OF ME!"

Gandalf gave a quiet chuckle as the rest of the Fellowship hurried to help Leigh get out from under the dead wolf.

"Well done, lassies!" Gimli crowed. "I pity the man that ever underestimates the two of you!"

"Or the wolf," Frodo pointed out.

"Nah," Pippin frowned. "I don't pity the wolf."

"Neither do I," Leigh grunted as Boromir hauled her to her feet.

The rest of the day was spent walking. Jack was beginning to see a pattern: walk, face mortal danger, and walk some more until they had found some great peril worth taking the time away from walking again. Somewhere he had read that you can never actually 'catch up with' your sleep, if you don't get your sleep then it just stays lost forever. He wasn't sure if that meant that you just got more tired as the days and weeks rolled on but it felt like it. The rhythm of his life had become a regular step-thud-step-thud-step of the endless pace that Gandalf led them with. This had definitely been one of those parts in the book when he had enjoyed _reading_ the story from his nice, cozy couch, not tromping over two-thirds of Middle Earth.

As they neared Moria, Maylin began drifting towards Leigh as they walked along over the decaying ground.

"Leigh," she said quietly. "Slow back a bit, or come over to the side with me. I want to tell you something." Leigh gave her a quizzical look, but nodded and moved off to the side out of the path. Jaden threw a glance at them over her shoulder, but Leigh waved her on, what Maylin wanted to say she seemed to want to say in private.

"I think..." Maylin seemed to struggle with the words. "... I think that I might..err.. I might kinda... have a crush on Legolas."

"You can't be serious," Leigh asked.

"I am, actually."

"You know how it goes with falling in love or whatever in the middle of a _quest!_" Leigh insisted. "It's just not smart! Soon, you start pairing off with that person and compromising the team and..."

"You don't have to tell me all this!" Maylin hissed. "I know, already, I can't help it. I wanted to tell you so that if something happens you know."

"Something happens?"

"He doesn't feel for me as far as I know," Maylin continued.

"Alright," Leigh sighed dramatically. "For the record, as the 'team leader' or whatever, I say that you're an idiot. As Leigh, your buddy, I say... I suspected."

"You did?" Maylin gawked. "Why didn't you yell at me or something?"

"Didn't see the need. But anyway, as I was saying, I trust you, so I don't think that you'd do anything stupid because of your little 'crush'." Maylin opened her mouth to say something, but Leigh rushed on, "Ok, maybe it's more than a crush, only you know that. For the time being, just act like you usually do... but I think that goes without saying."

"Thanks."

"For...?"

"Not biting my head off completely," Maylin grinned.

"You're welcome, just don't make me regret it," Leigh cautioned.

The land around Moria was exactly as Jaden had envisioned it: dark, cold, wet, and very creepy. Usually she rolled her eyes at Boromir's comment in the book, but at the moment she agreed completely. She made very certain to give the lake a wide berth... well... as wide as was possible. Her foot slashed in a couple times, and she found herself jumping back, half expecting to see a big, slimy, green tentacle wrapping itself around her poor, defenseless ankle. If Boromir decided to try the whole, rock throwing thing, she was going to hurt him.

As an elf, Maylin looked up to the stars for reassurance in this awful place. They hung there like dead things, their shine cool and powerless. She shuddered, the evil of Moria didn't seem to be contained in its dark belly, but had reached up and choked the stars with its chill. Legolas was beside her, seeming to also sense the darkness that seeped through cracks in the mountain. His presence beside her gave her the guts to keeping put one foot in front of the other, and not run in terror back to where the stars shone down with friendly warmth, and didn't drift in a cold death across the black sky.

The danger around them was a threat, and Leigh reacted with due response. Soon, she was walking by the Hobbits and the two younger members of her foursome that she had come to 'protect'. With a slightly surprised and amused grin, Aragorn caught her eye over the low heads of the shortest of the nine and there was a shared sense of protection. They had both been put in positions that placed them in protective roles over at least some of the other members of the Fellowship, and with that came a family-like bond that demanded respect for one another.

By the time Gandalf _finally_ found the doors, all of the Fellowship was edgy and nervous at the very least. Merry and Pippin had latched onto Jaden, whether to protect or _for_ protection could only be guessed, and soon Jaden and Jack had latched onto their own companions, all of them staying well away from the stagnant lake that, as the four knew, held an unspeakable horror in its watery muck.

For the entire time that Gandalf tried to puzzle out the door, Jack was about ready to stand up and yell, "It's a riddle for crying out loud! Look! Just say friend in Elvish and get this over with!" at the top of his lungs, whether he wrecked the story or no.

Jaden was deeply thankful to Bilbo as she slipped out her journal. This thing came in handy. With slightly shaking fingers, she began to write.

_Once again, here I sit awaiting the hammer fall of doom. I guess I should explain about the wolves before I continue to our present scenario. The big, tough guys took out most of the wolves (they may have been werewolves) but one got through to Leigh and I. We took it out together, our first battle. _

_Right now, we are sitting outside of the gates to Moria, wringing our hands and just hoping Gandalf gets them open soon. It's even worse when you already know what it is that he's supposed to say. Poor Jack's about to pop over there. Leigh has made sure that we're all sitting as far from the lake as possible, and I don't blame her in the least. I think it's colder here than it was in the mountains, but that might just be my imagination. I don't see Boromir offering Leigh his cloak, so I guess it's at least more my imagination than reality. I hope that I'll be able to continue this journal once we're inside Moria, I'm not completely sure that there'll be enough light to see what on earth I'm writing. Maybe I'll try to get Gandalf to bring his staff over or something._

Leigh just about jumped up and cheered as the gate swung open.

Then Frodo yelled and Leigh dove forward after Sam to help him drag the Ringbearer to safety, if there was such a thing as safety in the mines. Frodo was light, and Leigh knew that she could have easily thrown him over her shoulder and ran the rest of the way, but this was Sam's job, and she was just trying to help. As the hideous tentacle drew back, a host of twenty more slimy minions came lashing after them, one came close enough to whip across Leigh's cheek, leaving a trail of green sheen in its wake. Then the doors were slammed shut behind them in a thunderclap of crashing stone and tearing trees.

Maylin wanted to swing her arms about in the thick blackness to find her friends and make sure Leigh hadn't hurt herself in her enthusiasm to help Frodo. The others found her eventually and they huddled together like a litter of puppies, afraid of the dark and the evils that seethed in it. The light from Gandalf's staff couldn't have been more welcomed to the trembling companions.

"You alright?" Leigh asked Maylin in a whisper. "You know... underground and all that..."

"I think I'll be fine," Maylin reassured her.

"Let me know if you get nervous or panicky or whatever..."

"I think you'll know if I do," Maylin chuckled grimly.

The trudge through Moria was an awful blur of darkness and fear. For the other members of the Fellowship, there was a fear of the unknown and uncertainty, there might be something that still lurked about in the bowls of this dark place. The four friends had a deep, residing fear of what they _knew_ was lurking in the hidden caverns of this ruined kingdom. A dark fire was awaiting them at the end of this little trip as well as a horde of orcs.

Jaden was sitting up, trying to wiggle into a light-providing position that she could write in when she saw Pippin going over to that awful well. She just about jumped up and smacked him. But the knowledge that this must happen held her steady in her position against the wall. Nonetheless, she desperately wanted to shout "Fool of a Took!" at Pippin along with Gandalf when his heinous crime was revealed. It was dark, she was scared, and she wouldn't hesitate to slap the next person to do something idiotic.

Luckily, everyone felt the same way, so there was no need to knock heads in.

Gimli had taken Jack under his wing during their seemingly endless trek through the horrid caves. If it weren't for Gimli's joy at seeing his people's former glory, Jack would most likely have fallen in a shuddering heap by that point. As the Dwarf gleefully told his new audience about the glorious wonders of the realm they were now traversing, Jack couldn't help but think instead of how the poor Dwarves had coming running through this very tunnel all those years ago, fleeing from the terror they had awoken beneath their own homes. It was so tragic how confident they'd been in their domain, all of their defenses pointing outward against attack, never suspecting the demon that was slumber beneath their very feet as they walked along. The sense of saddened loss and grief that this place still held kept the forces of terror at bay as he trudged along with the others, knowing full well what was going to happen to them when they crossed the bridge.

Maylin often caught herself looking up at the ceiling, as if searching for the blessed sight of a star in the stone roof above her. Leigh and Jaden stayed by her as often as chance would allow, offering their presence as comfort in the eternal gloom. To her surprise, Legolas also seemed concerned for her state of mind in the oppressive dark and frequently came over at the beginning of one of their precious rests to ask how she faired. Soon, Leigh offered another kind of distraction for her: giving her a friendly elbow in the ribs every time the Elf came to inquire about her. Maylin returned the jab every time.

And of course, she also had the opportunity to taunt her friend about the affairs of the heart. Boromir was often found walking beside her with his hand resting permanently on the hilt of his sword, as if daring the darkness to send its worst. While conversation was virtually nonexistent between the strange little group, Boromir never missed a chance to help Leigh over a chasm or aid her on a particularly rough section of stairs. Maylin had never had so much fun teasing her friend in her life.

As they entered the room where the beam of light from the world outside fell in, all four grouped themselves together, their blood turning into rivers of red ice. A terror seemed to leak out of the walls and into their souls as Gandalf lifted that book and began to read those terrible lines. Then the sound of those awful drums boomed around them. _Boom, doom! Boom, doom!_ As the rest of the Fellowship debated what to do, Leigh whispered to her companions, "When the orc leader comes in, don't try to be heroic. Frodo can survive, we can't. So clear out of the way, I don't care if you feel like a coward, just do it!" the other three nodded agreement.

Gimli hefted is axe with fire in his eyes for the fight while Boromir tried to wedge the door shut with bits of broken sword blades. Then the strong warrior retreated and stood next to Aragorn, his sword raised and ready to defend his friends in the impending battle. Maylin drew an arrow and steadied it against the string, waiting for a target. Cold sweat trickled down Jaden's face as she waited for the attack. Leigh dragged her sword from its sheath and counted her breaths, trying to calm her screaming nerves. Licking his dry lips, Jack slipped out his own sword.

Then the door ground open and half of what must have been a troll pushed its way inside. Frodo leapt forward and sank his small blade into the green foot. Boromir slammed the door closed again. Leigh looked down in surprise and realized her hands were shaking as they clutched her sword. Rams boomed against the weak, age-maimed door and Maylin drew the arrow back to her ear.

With a sudden crash, the door surrendered and crashed in and orcs swarmed into the room.

Maylin ducked as the wave of precursory arrows shot in through the open doorway. With a steadying breath, she released her first shaft and grabbed for her quiver for a replacement. Dimly, she thought she saw a dark body keel over in the gloom beyond the light of the record's room, but she was too busy aiming at another target for the thought to fully register.

Jaden found herself fighting by Frodo, swinging her sword in wide arches, trying to deter the smelly creatures from attempting a charge. An orc came at her from the left and she instinctually took advantage of his raised weapon to slash at his stomach, succeeding in piercing its armor and knocking it away. She spun and deflected another blow from her right, feinted a blow to the knees, and hacked into the monster's head.

Leigh yelled and charged at a group of oncoming orcs, making them pause for a moment in confusion and wonder just who was supposed to be attacking who. By the time they had it figured out again, two of them were out of the game for good. A third tried to take out her leading arm, but she whirled away and slashed at its neck. Another one down for the count. Glorfindel would have been proud of his students.

Jack just let instinct guide his movements, he was beginning to see why Glorfindel had insisted on those endless drills... at the moment they were the only things standing between him and a very gory death. One thing he was learning very quickly: there is no time to 'think' in a battle. If you haven't trained the way you should you die. Jack swung out at the nearest orc, sending it staggering over to Aragorn with a gashed leg.

The orc chieftain came hurtling in, knocking Boromir aside with apparent ease. Then the unimaginable occurred. Jack, a little distance from the others, was stabbed by the mighty orc before it plunged on and hurled the weapon to pin Frodo against the wall. Leigh screamed and lunged forward with Maylin and Jaden towards Jack.

"_Jack!_" she cried.

"Oh no, oh, no," Maylin gasped. "_This wasn't supposed to happen!_"

"We must go!" Gandalf bellowed. "This is our chance, run for it!"

"Come on!" Boromir cried as he came over to them.

"You will _not_ get me out of this room without Jack," Leigh hissed at him, bent over her friend. Boromir quickly grabbed the skinny boy from the stone floor and herded the three out the door ahead of him.

A/N: Can't say I didn't warn ya!


	11. Black and Gold

disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, if I did, it would mean that I was a much better writer than I am.

A/N: Yes, yet another chap that stinks. Sorry. Stuff does start to get interesting, I swear! I know I keep saying that, but I don't lie, so I mean what I say! Enjoy!

Black and Gold

Frodo paled as he saw Boromir carrying Jack's limp body. "Is he...?"

"No, not yet," Boromir replied as he dashed down the stairs. "But his breaths are shallow and he is losing much blood from the wound."

Down, down, down into the darkness that swallowed the stairs, down, down, down. Darkness everywhere, in the eyes, in the soul. Down, down, down, down into the dark. Maylin wished for a star, a single star to light the darkness of the mines, and the blackness in her heart.

_Blood, blood on his shirt, blood on his skin. Why was there so much blood? Why couldn't he see? People were around him, his friends were around him. His friends' breathing was ragged, like they were running. But he wasn't running, he was bouncing, bouncing and floating down. Where were they all going? He could hear Jaden behind his bobbing head, she was crying. Why was she crying? Jack wanted to help her, tell it was alright, he didn't want her to cry. What was wrong? Why did his darkness hurt so much? _

Leigh stayed beside Boromir, and thus Jack, as they ran madly into the dark below them. When they reached the end of the stairs, she placed herself in front of her friends, standing between them and whatever danger that might show itself. What had happened to Jack was her fault, and she would die before she let herself repeat that mistake.

_Boom, doom! Boom doom!_ The drums had started again. As they beat out their dark foreshadowings, Gandalf came flying down the stairs then the awful drums were silenced again. Once again they plunged on into the black oblivion and ran for their lives. They ran on and on, pausing only to feel their way in places where the pitch black of the caves hid their path from them. No sound of a pursuit reached them, and some of the Fellowship began to think that they might escape from the black pit with no further losses. The three of the four left standing knew better, far better. Then they saw the Bridge before them.

With the sight of the bridge that lead to freedom in the light of the sun and stars the sound of the drums returned once again. They ran for the light that they knew lay just beyond that bridge. The darkness seemed like a slow-working poison that had been spreading through their veins, and now the only cure was pure sunlight.

Legolas cried out as the others began to dash across the bridge. Maylin whirled and fell in a trembling heap at the sight of the _thing_ that had just come up from the fiery bowels of that accursed place. She'd never seen anything as terrible and evil in her life, and she doubted that she ever would again. When she had read the books, she had pictured it like just about everyone else, a big, humanoid thing that was on fire with a big sword and whip. The massive monster before her surpassed the things from her darkest nightmares, it carried with it all of the feelings of dread anyone could bear inside their hearts and seemed to send it out like some nasty reek from beneath its wings. The Balrog looked pretty much like it had in the movie, but the face was like the skull of some great monster from before the sun had been made and was twisted with evil. Somehow it seemed even larger than it had in the film as well.

Leigh and Jaden dived forward and dragged the shaking Maylin to her feet and across the bridge after the Hobbits. They both kept their backs to the demon that was advancing on them, afraid of ending up like Maylin, except in the middle of the narrow bridge, where they would most likely tumble off. Jaden had always wanted to go sky diving, but she didn't feel the desire to try it here. Finally, they made it to the other side and something that resembled safety. Leigh took the opportunity to turn and see the scene unfolding below them.

"Oh my gosh," Jaden gasped from beside her. Leigh looked at her as she completed her turn. Then she saw the thing on the bridge and she found herself incapable of saying _anything_.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf bellowed in challenge to the Balrog. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun! Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass."

Jaden wondered how any creature, no matter how powerful could defy the wishes of the wizard. How could the Balrog win against him? Her thoughts were so different from those of the 'true' Fellowship that it was almost laughable.

_Jack could hear shouting, and he could dimly sense a great evil. Something was happening, the people around him were scared by something, something powerful._

"_You cannot pass!" _

_Gandalf?_

_Boom! Not the drums... something greater... cries, shouts, shock._

"_Fly, you fools!" Gandalf again. _

_Running, moving, fleeing. Escape. Sorrow. Then... Light!_

Maylin gasped in the fresh breeze of the living, breathing world and felt that she'd never be able to breathe in enough of it. The brilliant sunlight warmed her stony face and freed it from the dark frown that had come to dominate it.

They ran out of bowshot from the dark doorway that lead down to the demonic realms beneath the mountain and then stopped at last to mourn. At least the Fellowship stopped to mourn, but Leigh would have made them anyway. While they wept at the assumed loss of Gandalf, she worked feverishly to prevent the loss of another along with Jaden and Maylin. After a few minutes, Aragorn and the others experienced in healing kneeled down beside them to help their comrade.

"Well hello, Leigh," Jack whispered as he regained consciousness.

"Hello, Jack," she replied quietly as she placed some herbs Aragorn handed to her on his wound.

"I'm not going to live am I?"

"Of course you're going to live through this," Leigh nearly shouted. "Just don't talk like that."

Jack closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, and Leigh feared that he might never wake up.

"We cannot linger," Aragorn told her gently. "But if we reach Lorien in time, they might be able to save him." Leigh hung her head and nodded mutely. Boromir scooped Jack up once again and they set off towards the Golden Wood of Lothlorien.

After all of the days of dreary skies, or no skies at all, it seemed like nature was trying to make up for all of the dreadful days that they had suffered through. Its attempts went unnoticed by the company of walkers. They plodded on in grave silence, mourning and fearing. Flowers tried to wave at them in the wind, but no one even looked up to see them.

Boromir stayed by Leigh, trying to lift her spirits with his presence. As the day wore on, they drew closer together, like they were trying to draw strength and stability from the other person. Neither one succeeded, because neither of them had any hope, joy or any other happy feeling to extend to the other. Aragorn now carried Jack as they approached Lothlorien, maybe helping Boromir by sharing the load, maybe hoping to show whatever Elves spotted them first that they were no threat. Freed from carrying the grim burden, Boromir actually lifted her up and carried her across the river. Under any other circumstances, Leigh wouldn't have let him, but at the moment she was to dispirited to bother objecting.

Boromir exchanged worried looks with Aragorn when Leigh gave no objections. Even in the short time they had known her, they could tell when something was very, very wrong.

Maylin stared in wonder as they entered Lothlorien. _This_ was exactly as she had pictured it as she read. The magnificence of the trees was a welcome change after the horrible fear of the Balrog, and Maylin began talking quietly to Jaden as they walked beneath the swaying ceiling of the trees. When they reached Nimrodel, her spirits were nearly restored, if it weren't for Jack, that would have been the happiest moment she'd had since arriving in Middle Earth.

She purposefully went and sat next to Frodo when they halted at the stream. The one thing that she wanted to hear more than anything else in Middle Earth was Legolas's song about the beautiful stream. What was it about bodies of water inspiring music? Even back home there were songs about the Mississippi river in particular, but many others as well. Of course, Elvish singing _must_ be better than those folk songs she'd heard...

Leigh stared idly into the woods, not bothering to open her pack and dig out some food. She wasn't hungry, why bother eating? Besides, the sooner they left the better.

"You haven't eaten anything," Boromir observed as he crouched down next to her.

"Not hungry."

"Nonetheless, you should try to eat, Leigh," he told her softly. "You will need your strength for our journey into Lothlorien."

"Don't try to coax me into eating," Leigh snapped, "I'm not a three-year-old."

"Why are you punishing yourself?" Boromir demanded.

"It was my fault," she replied flatly. "I should have been keeping an eye on everyone."

"It is next to impossible to 'keep an eye on someone' in the middle of a battle," he pointed out.

"It was still my responsibility. I should have..."

"You can't go back and change this! What's done is done! What you need to do is be a leader for your other two friends, they're still here, and they will need you. I've seen how you take care of each other. What you should be doing is trying to help Jack, not starve yourself."

"Alright already! If I eat will you please leave me alone?" Leigh yelled.

"Yes."

"Fine," she shoved a bite in her mouth. "There, you see? I'm eating! You can leave now!"

Boromir sighed and trudged off.

When Aragorn declared that they would spend the night in the trees, Jaden swiftly volunteered to climb one, but by the time she had said that, Legolas was climbing the first branch of a nearby tree.

"Daro!"

Legolas thudded back to earth, and for a moment, even Leigh was tempted to grin. "Stand still!" he ordered quickly. "Do not move or speak."

Before Merry could ask 'who are they?' Jaden quickly told the anxious Hobbits, "They're Elves, don't panic, they won't shoot you."

All four tried to focus on what Legolas and the Galadhrim were saying to each other, all of them knew at least some scant Elvish... some more than others. Their teeth were set on edge with anxiousness and impatience. There Jack was, edging around death's door, and there were the high and mighty Elves having a chat! Leigh couldn't believe it. She heard the great and not-so-wise powers above inquire about the women in the group, and her temper slipped... ok it did a bit more than slip.

"Lasto!" she screamed up at the tree's occupants. "Mellon nin na nev gurth, Lambean!"

Maylin whacked her head against her hand. Every member who spoke Elvish was all out staring at her, not believing what she'd just said.

To all of their relief, and surprise, an Elf jumped down and stood by Aragorn and Jack.

"Your friend has a sharp tongue," he commented. They all shot murderous looks at Leigh. "But she speaks truly. I am Haldir, my brother, Orophin, will take your friend into Lorien so that his wounds may be tended to. Now, since I have descended, I might as well hold council with the leaders of your company. I assume, Aragorn that you are among them. I shall leave it to you to select the other members to join our council."

"I am indeed," Aragorn acknowledged, gently handing Jack over to the waiting Elf. "I would ask that Legolas and Frodo join this meeting, and Sam as well, for loth be the day he is separated from his master." There were a few chuckles at that, then the selected members clambered up the ladder that mysteriously appeared next to them.

As soon as the Elf bearing their friend disappeared, Maylin stomped over to Leigh and yelled, "What on earth did you think you were doing! You could have ticked them off or gotten us all shot!"

"It worked anyway," Leigh shrugged, "Jack's got a fighting chance now."

"It's all or nothing with you!" Maylin said, throwing up her hands. "You might have just put the entire group in jeopardy!" Leigh caught a slip of a smile that flitted over Boromir's mouth.

"And what's that for, Boromir?" she asked.

"It is simply that you are acting like yourself again, my lady," he smiled.

"You know sometimes I think your mouth is bigger than your brain," Maylin growled at Leigh.

"Only sometimes?"

"I agree with the lass," Gimli grunted. "I don't know what she said, but I second it."

"She told an Elven guard to pretty much listen up. Then she told him her friend was near death and called him 'Longtongue'." Gimli burst out laughing.

"I most certainly agree with it!"

"You can continue your debate in the trees," Aragorn groaned as he dropped the rest of the way to the ground off of the ladder, "or in Maylin's case: chastising." There were scattered snickers. "The ladies and Hobbits are to go up this tree and stay with the Elves, not counting Legolas. The rest of you, follow me."

While the others shuffled off after Aragorn, the three girls waited for the Hobbits to clamber up ahead of them. They all had the grudging knowledge that Maylin was going to find this incredibly easy to climb, while the other two were going to be fumbling for their lives. Haldir had come down to ensure that none of them broke their necks while they were in his charge, and from the look on his face, if they didn't follow the halflings soon, he was going to start pointing to them at random and ordering them to climb. Maylin slipped up along it with disgusting fluidity and Jaden slowly scuttled up after her.

"Before I climb," Leigh said to Haldir, "I wanted to apologize, what I said was uncalled for, and I ask your forgiveness for it." Haldir actually laughed.

"You are forgiven," he chuckled. "My brothers found it very entertaining, and you spoke from an honest heart that was concerned for a friend. I can understand that. Now, I'm now going to let you fall or push you off in case you were worrying about that." Now it was Leigh's turn to laugh.

She carefully pulled herself up the rope ladder, trying to admire the gorgeous tree she was ascending as she went up. The bark wasn't so rough as the trees she had seen before, even in Middle Earth and shone with a smooth, grey gleam. Of course, when she saw the flet, all thoughts of the tree it was nestled in were driven from her mind.

The thing was flat, really flat, and except for that one precious movable screen to block the wind, there was nothing to keep her from toppling down to her death. From the way the Hobbits were huddled together in the middle, they seemed to be having the same thoughts. It was very beautiful, sure, but that wasn't going to leave any impressions on her if she fell off in the middle of the night. Suddenly, she felt very glad that she'd made peace with Haldir before they came up.

"Hullo!" Sam called to her. "I guess your thoughts are pretty much same as ours right now."

"If you're thinking," Leigh gasped as she struggled to pull herself the rest of the way up, "that we're all going to go hurtling off of this thing in the middle of the night and _die_ then yes, we're thinking the same thing." A musical laugh greeted this remark.

A tall Elf strode over to her and helped pull her clear of the dreadful edge. "I am Rumil! And you are the young woman who so wonderfully chastised my brother!"

"I'm afraid so," Leigh replied, sinking down beside the Hobbits and Jaden. She spotted Maylin walking around the edge of the flet and said to her, "You are nuts, you know that? When you fall off don't go crying to me!"

"I'm an Elf, remember?" she giggled. "This view's magnificent! Too bad you're too chicken to come see it."

"Chicken, perhaps," Jaden gasped. "But we are _live_ chickens, so I count myself lucky." Maylin shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

"We are doing so," Leigh pointed out. "I don't suppose we have any rope to tie ourselves together with?"

"No," Sam moaned.

Jaden leaned over to Leigh and whispered in her ear, "Do you have your exiting buddy?" Leigh delivered a swift elbow in the ribs.

"That is so not funny," she said, trying not to laugh.

"Than why are you laughing?"

"What's so funny?" Maylin asked as she walked over to them.

"'Do you have your exiting buddy?'" Jaden and Leigh quoted as one. Maylin doubled over in a laughing fit.

"Well," Leigh sighed, "let's just see how funny it is in the morning."

For Jaden, Leigh and the Hobbits, the night was torture. The girls at least had trouble sleeping, not sure if they were going to go toppling off of the platform in their sleep, and, in Leigh's case, not sure if the Elves would catch them if they did. They did get food, so that helped their view on things a little better, but not quite enough. Maylin was having endless fun, of course, by walking along the edge of the flet and giggling at her friends' cries of distress and their orders to 'get back where it's safe!'. Jaden was afraid that the wind was going to blow one of the Hobbits clean off, even though it was just a light breeze that had difficulty knocking a leaf from the flet.

"Wow," Maylin commented, "we're really high up."

"_Maylin!_" Jaden shrieked. "Do you value your life in any way shape or form? Then stop it!"

"Oh, touchy," the Elf teased.

"Touchy is a severe understatement," Leigh hissed from the other side of the Hobbits. She and Jaden had placed themselves on either side of their little huddle, hoping to keep the shorter ones from rolling away to their deaths in the middle of the night. All some had to do was twitch and there were at least three sets of hands there to stop them from rolling.

"I wonder how it would feel to free fall all the way down there...?" Maylin mused.

"You. Are. Evil," Jaden said in forced words.

"Yes, I know."

The rest of the night was spent in similar fashion, hissing at Maylin, shuddering at her comments, and trembling at the thought of the nearby edge that stood there like a widely opened door to eternity. By morning, they were all far from rested, and the rest of the Fellowship found themselves reunited with two grumpy girls, four sleepy Hobbits and one very perky Elf.

"Good morning," Aragorn greeted, looking like he had spent a similar night in the trees.

"Morning, yes. Good, no," Jaden replied.

"Aye," Gimli agreed. "Dwarves were not made for long nights in trees."

"Neither were we evidently," Leigh pointed out as she slid to the ground.

"I believe that the Elves were the only ones who enjoyed this experience," Boromir grunted, streching.

"How on earth can you be cramped after that?" Leigh asked. "There was _too much_ room for me."

"Tight muscles all night long make for a stiff body in the morning," Boromir responded flatly.

Soon, the beauty of Lothlorien began to melt the exhaustion-hardened hearts of nearly all of the Fellowship. The blackness that still clung to their hearts and minds from the dark depths of Moria began to fade and change to gold. Even in winter, the woods were lovely... beyond that, breathtaking would be closer. All of the forests that the three friends had ever seen were muddy, shady places that were difficult to get into and always seemed even harder to get out of. And even while those woods still held some shreds of their ancient mysteries, they were gloomy, decaying things, that couldn't even dream of comparing with the bright radiance of the Golden Wood around them now.

Then they all heard the sounds of a happily flowing river through the trees. Jaden and Leigh waited patiently at the end of the line to cross the slim rope 'bridge' that Haldir and the nameless Elf on the other side created. Maylin felt no such qualms, and made sure to run across first without so much as touching the ropes that had been put up to aid the others' balance. She cast a quirky glance over her shoulder at her friends before stepping aside. If looks could kill, Maylin would have dropped dead right then and there.

"You're next," Leigh nudged Jaden as the people ahead of them began to thin out.

"I think not," she snorted.

"I do," Leigh said cheerfully.

"I still don't," Jaden replied, eying the water rushing beneath the ropes. "You always go first."

"Well it's time for a change of pace."

"You two can be worse than Hobbits when you have the mind," Aragorn scolded. "Leigh shall go first, and set a good example for Jaden." The younger girl gave a look of utter triumph as her friend cautiously approached the flimsy bridge.

"Don't look down!" Pippin advised.

"Just take your time, but get it over with," Sam encouraged.

"That was an oxymoron, sam!" Leigh shouted across. Sam shrugged.

"C'mon, Leigh!" Maylin cheered. "It's not hard! You've done worse."

"I am so gonna die," Leigh muttered as she stepped onto the bottom rope.

Her hands wrapped around the higher rope in a death grip. She had waned to be many things growing up... none of them had been a tightrope walker. Below her, the water shot up little splashed at her feet, like little hands trying to pull her off. Her legs were shaking, but she was making progress, slow progress, but still progress. Then she looked up and met Maylin's eyes. With a burst of defiance and comradery all at the same time, Leigh picked up her speed and stepped ashore on the opposite side with a happy air and a raised head.

"You looked down," Pippin scolded.

"I made it didn't I?" Leigh laughed.

"We all thought we were going to have to dive in and rescue you," Maylin teased.

"Ha!" Leigh shouted. "I need no rescue! Unless I'm on top of a mountain..." Maylin clapped her on the shoulder and they turned to watch Jaden come across.

Jaden had a much more difficult time with the crossing. Physically, she and Leigh were pretty much the same in muscle mass and the fear of anything even remotely resembling heights. Unlike Leigh, she didn't have the whole 'I have be at least one of the best and prove myself' thing going on. Thus, she found herself stuck in the middle of the 'bridge' and unable to move, traumatized by the sight of the water spinning around greedily beneath her. She would have enjoyed the sight of the stream if she hadn't been standing over it on a strand of rope that had been dubbed a bridge.

"You can do it, Jay!" Maylin cheered from the objective side of the stream.

"How much you wanna bet on that?" she cried back.

"Uh-oh," Leigh moaned. "I think she's stuck."

"So? We all thought you were going to be stuck at one point," Maylin objected.

"She isn't going to be, she is."

"C'mon, Jaden!" Sam called. "If I made it so can you!"

Jaden slowly looked over at the brave little Hobbit, thinking about all he had done and had yet to do to protect his friend and master and to save the home he loved. If he could do all that, surely she could get to the other side of this stream! With a burst of courage or madness, she dragged herself along the ropes and half fell off at the end into the arms of her friends on the other side.

"Well," she gasped, trying to get her breath, "that was an adventure."


	12. Lives in Lothlorien

Disclaimer: Up to this point, I have not owned the Lord of the Rings. After this point I will not own Lord of the Rings. And right now, I do not own Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Hey again! I hope that this chapter does Lothlorien at least some justice, it stinks again! A note on the characters that I thought I'd share. Yes, I know, Maylin's kind of the Mary-Sue of the group, it is very sad, I know. Leigh is the front person, she has a tendency to throw herself or be thrown into the middle of a situation, and she's kinda a bit of a tough girl. But she will be a wonderful angsty character later on (that was a wee bit of a spoiler)! Jack has yet to show much about himself, but he's going to show a bit more toughness as time goes on, and there's going to be a development with him that (hopefully) no one's expecting (another spoiler!). Then there's Jaden. Let me just say this: she is going to have a LOT of development in later chapters! Well, my briefing time is over, and you probably knew most of that anyway! Enjoy this bit!

Lives in Lothlorien

"The Dwarf must be blindfolded as was agreed," Haldir announced, motioning the other Elf forward to perform the task.

"Such an agreement was made without my consent," the hardy Dwarf growled. "I will not walk blindfolded like some spy while the others are allowed to walk free."

"I do not doubt you," Haldir replied, "but this is the law of our land, and it is not in my power to grant you this thing."

"If I cannot walk free, then I will go back, and travel to my own lands, where I may walk with respect in the presence of those who do not doubt my honor!" Gimli announced.

"You cannot go back now that you have passed the river," Haldir told him icily. "To attempt to do so would result in death, there are many archers hidden in the brush that would shoot you should you try such a foolhardy thing. You must come and be presented to the Lord and Lady since you have entered their woods."

Gimli drew his axe and muttered something that none of the three even wanted to translate.

"A plague on the Dwarves and their stiff necks!" Legolas hissed.

"Come! Let us all be blindfolded!" Aragorn cried. "It is unfair to the Dwarf to be so singled out as he says. However our trip will be long and dull. Even Legolas shall be blindfolded."

"I would be content if only Legolas shares my blindness," Gimli chuckled. "Otherwise we shall all look like so many beggars being led by one string."

"But I am an Elf and a kinsman here!" Legolas protested.

"Now let's all cry: 'A plague on the stiff necks of the Elves!'" Leigh snickered. She couldn't help it, she'd always liked that line.

"We shall _all_ be blinded," Aragorn told Haldir. "All of the Fellowship shall fair alike."

"Except for Jack," Jaden muttered to Maylin under her breath. "Hey, Leigh, looks like you're doing better about it now."

"Yeah," Leigh nodded, waiting for her turn to be blindfolded. "As soon as the Elves took him, I had this peace, like everything was alright. It was kinda weird actually." Jaden hummed the Twilight Zone theme in Leigh's ear, earning an elbow in the ribs for her antics.

Maylin noted to privately that Boromir had chosen to stand next to Leigh in line, it escaped her notice though that Legolas had chosen to walk by _her_. Neither incident escaped Jaden, though. Part of her was thrilled for her friends, the other part screamed warnings that generally said something like, '_This could mess up the story! Stop it! Not only that, but it could hurt your friends! Think about Boromir's track record here for a minute. Not exactly the safest guy in Middle Earth for your very powerful friend to be shipping with!_' Of course, she never had the heart to bring up such details to them, and she assumed that they were both responsible beings who knew the risks... maybe. Crushes have a tendency to drive out most logical thoughts from one's head. Was she concerned? Absolutely. Was she going to do anything about it at the moment? Absolutely not.

After that, just about everyone's thoughts were focused on keeping their feet. True, Haldir was an excellent guide and the paths were smoother than any that the threesome had yet encountered in Middle Earth. But they (well most of them anyway) were still human, and humanclumsy.

To Maylin's delight, she found that she could focus more on the _sounds_ around her instead of the _sights_ and discovered that she was actually almost 'seeing' the woods around her. The footsteps of the Fellowship plodded and tromped ahead and behind her, enabling her to just about pin point every member's location. Birdsong flitted down from the trees over head in a happy medley that lifted her spirits for the second time since she'd come to Lothlorien.

The smells of the forest were so different from what Jaden was used to. Usually, there was a perpetual smell of decaying leaves and trees, not that those smells were bad, it was just that there seemed to be a... _fresher_ smell here, as if death hadn't entered the wood yet. All in all, it was rather enjoyable... except for the fact that she couldn't _see_ anything, and the tantalizing thoughts of the natural beauties that she was missing gnawed away at her belly in frustration. Blast the Elves! If they weren't so prejudiced against Dwarves, then she would be enjoying this little trip all the more. '_Now that's not fair, Jaden, and you know it,'_ she reprimanded herself. _'The Elves are saving Jack's life right _now_ so stop it!'_ Fighting with herself, she continued plodding along with the others in the dark.

The whole thing might as well have been a game of blind man's bluff to Leigh if it weren't for the knowledge that they had to keep going in a straight line. It was fun. Really. Merry and Pippin were just ahead of her and she was having endless fun flicking at their heads every time she heard the guardian Elves walk off along the line. Of course, they responded with whacks at her legs or an occasional kick in the shins whenever they paused for a moment. Aragorn eventually caught on to what they were doing and barely contained his snickers.

"Ah! It is good to be sleeping on the ground again!" Gimli roared in pleasure as they halted for the night. Still being blindfolded, it wasn't really possible to climb into a tree to sleep. They had enough trouble doing that when they could see.

"And on grass too!" Merry added, also happy to not be slumbering on hard stone like a turtle or roosting in a tree like a bird.

"I could be sleeping next to a lava flow and I wouldn't care," Leigh moaned as she flopped over onto the sweet, soft grasses of Lothlorien. She decided that when it came to sleeping, she liked the grass much better than the trees. Even if they _had_ been forced to spend yet another night in the trees, nothing could have come between her and a good, solid night's sleep. She had been running, climbing unsafe ladders, and scooting over perilous 'bridges' for the past two days... with next to no sleep. If one of her friends tried to strike up a conversation, they would die. In about two minutes, she was asleep. Food didn't sound anywhere near as good as some good ol' shut eye.

The next day came far too early in most of the Fellowship's opinions, but they hauled themselves (and each other) up to continue on their walk with the coming of the untimely sunrise. Soon though the warmth of the sunlight and the joy of full stomachs added a little more bounce to their steps.

Jaden jumped when she realized that the Elven host had come. She hadn't heard them at all until they were right beside her! That was so unfair, why couldn't she walk like that? With baited breath, she waited for Haldir's announcement that they could take off their blindfolds and actually _see_ the forest they were walking through.

As Leigh's bindfold tumbled off, she gasped in astonishment at the natural splendor of the land around her. The trees towered over head in magnificent glory while the _elanor _and _niphredil_ beamed up happily from the emerald grass like joyful little stars that had grown from the ground instead of the sky.

Jaden realized first and foremost with a slight start that there wasn't a single dead leaf anywhere in sight. That would explain some things. Everything here was so _alive_ and _pure_, like nothing they had seen as of yet on their journey. With a bubbling happiness, she threw herself on the grass along with her friends and breathed in the rich scents of the woods.

The first thing that Maylin decided to do was really kind of childish, but she didn't care. In the summer, she had made flower chains for herself and her friends from first dandelions and then wild violets. At first, she had tried to teach Leigh, but that had been a failed attempt. She quickly gathered together a mass of the pretty little flowers and began twisting their stems together in a long wreath. The Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, watched in fascination as she tied the ends together with a blade of the lovely grass to make a crown of _elanor_ and _nephredil_.

"Jay!" she called, waving her over, "I made something for you!" Jaden came over and sat again in the grass beside her, then Maylin plopped in on her head dramatically with a giggle.

"Leigh, you're next!" she yelled.

"Wake me up when it's time then," Leigh muttered into the grass.

Maylin shrugged, twisted together a crown of _niphredil_, and kicked Leigh in the leg to get her attention.

Lastly, she put together a wreath for herself of just _elanor_ and happily crowned herself with it. Leigh, now awake and active, noticed a certain Elf looking toward Maylin and her pretty wreath. She stifled a grin.

The three got up and raced across the grass to where the great tree bearing Cerin Amroth. There were some things that had done and would do that were just fun things, that held no real importance except to laugh during dark times. But then there were things like the flet above them that held a stronger, emotional power that demanded respect and awe, and they felt that they needed to see this side of Middle Earth.

They pulled themselves up the ladder just before Haldir, with Frodo and Sam, turned to come down again. Haldir laughed with joy when he saw the three of them with their garlands on their heads.

"It has been long since girls wove the flowers here into garlands to wear," he smiled, obviously thinking back on all the things he had seen here, so many ages ago. "I thank you for this gift of joy you have brought to this place."

"I think the gift was given to us, actually," Maylin replied. "I at least haven't felt this happy since... I can't remember."

"We have had little time for wreath-making in the recent years," Haldir explained. "And it has been long since this place has gazed upon such joyful tasks."

"Well then," Jaden said, thinking aloud, "I think I'll give this place something back." She walked forward and placed the flower chain she wore on a protruding branch of the tree. As her hand touched it, it was almost like the tree was_ happy_.

"That's a great idea, Jay!" Mayin remarked. Then she and Leigh also hung their wreaths on the branches of the tree.

"We should probably go back now," Sam piped up.

"Indeed," Haldir agreed, looking away from the flowers that hung on the tree.

They returned to the others and the first thing that came out of Pippin's mouth was, "What did you do with your flowers?"

"We gave them to a tree," she laughed, feeling silly now that the moment was over.

"I thought they were very pretty wreaths," Merry commented.

"Thank you," Maylin bowed. "I've had a _lot_ of practice."

"We should continue," Haldir announced.

Almost reluctantly, the others followed him away from their resting place. Now that they could see the woods that they were walking through, it seemed that they all wanted to stop and drink in every little detail about it.

The city of the Galadhrim was even more stunning than the woods in which it had been built... or grown. Much of the buildings looked as if they had been grown from the very trees that supported them and gave them their lofty height above the ground. Lights glimmered like twinkling stars from the flets above them and from the stairways that wound up towards them. The air was pleasantly cool, not cold, and there was a shivering breeze that floated around them in a silent greeting.

"Here dwell Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Haldir told them solemnly. "I will go first, then Frodo, with Legolas as well, shall go. The rest may follow at their own leisure. There are places to rest along the stairs, it is a long climb to those who are unaccustomed to it."

Pretty much everyone paused to get a breath before they tried their legs on the stairs. After about half a minute, though, Leigh came over to her two friends and whispered to them, "The sooner we meet the Lord and Lady, the sooner we can see Jack." They nodded enthusiastically and all three headed for the winding stairway.

It was a long walk indeed, and only Maylin had no need to stop and rest during the assent. Jaden called the first halt, and they plopped down on the side of the stairway, out the path of any passerby.

"This is worse than when I climbed the Great Wall of China," Leigh wheezed. "At least there was something to help pull yourself up with!"

"Just think of the wonderful shape you'll be in after this!" Maylin encouraged.

"Yeah," Jaden muttered, "and all the wonderful pain we'll have in the morning!"

After that they continued their upwards trek toward where the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien awaited them. There was no debate about how they would be greeted, no one had any breath for such things as 'speaking'. That was a luxury to be enjoyed from a chair or some other resting position. White lights shown out of the flets they passed on their way up, like there were Silmarils hidden inside each one, beaming out at the walkers who passed by. The lights pricked Jaden's curiosity. They weren't the color of flames, nor did they leap and flicker like fire did. A mystery better debated in one's bed before sleep, she decided. For the time being, she decided that it was 'Elf magic' as Sam put it, and that would do for a conclusion in her mind.

Maylin, naturally, was the first to step into the hall where the great Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim awaited their guests.

"Welcome, Maylin, Elf and archer of Rivendell!" Lord Celeborn greeted. "You are most welcome here." Maylin bowed with a slight blush of embarrassment at the titles. Jaden came next.

"Greetings to you, Jaden scholar and warrior of the race of Men, may you find rest here in our kingdom." Last of all came Leigh.

"And welcome as well to Leigh, leader of the Four Wanderers. You have come far." Leigh bowed in acknowledgment.

She fidgeted, knowing that they would have to wait until all were assembled and the entire story about how they had gotten there and what in Middle Earth they were going to do now without Gandalf had been completed before they could go see Jack. That bugged her. She had been patient, she hadn't made a scene (_after_ the Haldir incident), and now she wanted to see Jack, and she didn't want to wait until after this entire meeting to see him, she wanted to see him _now_. Part of her said that she was acting like a little brat, but the leader side of her demanded that she be able to see Jack, know he was safe, and know that everything was good again.

A light voice laughed pleasantly and Leigh looked up with a start. No one had said anything, that voice had been inside her _head_. She gave Galadriel a startled look, Jaden and Maylin did as well.

"_I know that you wish to see your friend again," _Galadriel said to them. _"You already know what is about to transpire here, do you not?"_ The three nodded. _"Then I see no reason why you cannot go to him."_ Then she turned to her husband, and seemed to say something telepathically to him. Celeborn gave a small smile a twinkle shone in his eyes.

"You three may go and see the fourth of your little company, Jack," he told them gently. Their faces lit up. "This Elf, Nirielen," he motioned to an Elf woman who stood nearby, "will show you to him, and then lead you back to your friends. We may call you later, if we see the need." Maylin, Leigh and Jaden nodded excitedly and quickly followed their guide out of the room.

The city seemed even larger now as they hurried off to meet Jack again. Why did there have to be so many corridors and stairs here? Maylin shot Leigh a glance that said, "He's alive." Up stairs, down stairs, around flets, across grassy clearings, it was all very beautiful, but it was also between them and Jack, and right now they would prefer to see Jack rather than the glories of the Elven city. At least the floors were smooth, and they didn't have to worry about tripping up over every little thing that protruded from the floor.

At long last they came to the Elven equivalent to the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. The walls were white as pearls and the air felt _softer_ as they stepped inside the flet. Their guide indicated a gauzy, white curtain, and then stepped back to let them pass. Leigh sucked in a deep breath, praying that they hadn't interpreted the signs wrong, and Jack was really dead. Surely not, he had to still be...

"Jack!" Jaden cried, leaping toward the bed where he lay, obviously sleeping... well... at least he _was_ sleeping.

"Yikes!" he yelped. "Oh! You made it! You're here! Ow! Watch out, Jay!"

"Sorry."

"I'm so glad you're alright!" Maylin told him, sitting on the edge of the bed he was lying in.

"So am I," Leigh said quietly, fighting back the tears of relief that misted over her eyes.

"It was so weird waking up here," Jack laughed. "All of a sudden there were all of these Elves around me, and I thought I'd died or something. I almost did. The Lord and Lady came, I think they were the ones that saved me."

"How are you feeling?" Leigh asked, feeling a little better.

"I hurt like the devil," Jack replied honestly. "Ouch. I guess I got too worked up. 'I'm no longer in danger' according to the Elves. But I still hurt."

"I should think so," Jaden snorted. "You had us scared stupid! We thought you'd died even before we'd gotten out of Moria."

"And then of course you had us all worried with your little 'I'm gonna die' speech when we stopped," Leigh added.

"Oh, I wish you could've been awake for Leigh's little tirade with Haldir!" Maylin squealed.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, nothing," Leigh told him.

"She pretty much told him to cut the chitchat and then called him Longtongue," Jaden guffawed

"Darn! I would have enjoyed seeing Leigh bash and Elf to their face," Jack whined.

"If it weren't for you," Maylin pointed out. "She wouldn't have said anything in the first place. So if you hadn't gone and gotten yourself skewered, she wouldn't 've even said anything. It was a lose, lose situation for you, I'm afraid."

"It's great to see you guys again," jack smiled. "But if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get some sleep. Even though 'I am no longer in danger' I still feel awful and I hurt like you wouldn't believe, so I think I'm gonna go to sleep now."

"Alright, Jack," Leigh smiled. "Enjoy your nap, 'night!"

"'Night, Leigh," he answered.

"See ya tomorrow!" Jaden chirped.

"You too."

"Talk to ya later!" Maylin waved.

"Lookin' forward to it," Jack replied.

"Namarie!" all three girls called as they stepped through the curtain.

"Go _away_ won't you?" Jack laughed.

A/N: Hello again! I see that you have survived another awful chapter! Fear not! Amon Hen and onwards things are much more interesting... there's some cool stuff in Lothlorien... maybe. Bear with me here! We've almost gotten to the good stuff!


	13. How the Leaves of Lorien Fall

Disclaimer: No one on this site owns the Lord of the Rings, including me. (That's a reasonable assumption I think)

A/N: Hi again! Long time no update, sorry! I'll try to get the next update out faster, underline try. This chapter lacks action, so I hope you're not disappointed or anything about that. Anyway, let the angst begin! And this isn't the only case of it either! (spoiler) Oh yes, and thanks to Elsir for the H/M ship theory. ;)

How the Leaves of Lorien Fall

The days that followed were filled with easy peace for the Fellowship. Well... most of them anyway. But the air was warm and filled with music that drifted down from the flets above them and there was no need to fear the coming of night or have a watch while the others rested. The three girls made sure to get in as much sleep as they possibly could in those days, knowing that it would be some time before they had such a lengthy rest again. Haldir actually came to visit them in their little 'tents' during the time they spent under the protection of the Lord and Lady.

Soon, Maylin began disappearing from the group. At first, Jaden attributed this to Legolas, then she noticed that the two seemed to vanish at different times. Jack was recovering slowly but surely, and the entire Fellowship had been up at one time or another to see him and tell him what a great idiot he was for getting himself stuck with a spear. Her second greatest joy (after Jack's being alive and at least partially well) was the fact that she had endless time to work on her journal. No one really bothered her, and even when they did, it was only for a trip to see Jack or for an idle conversation, so she had plenty of opportunities to work on the beautiful book.

_I don't think I ever dreamed that Lothlorien would be so beautiful,_ one entry began. _The trees here make the pathetic shrubs back home look like wild grass. There are lights everywhere, a welcome relief after Moria. They say that you never really appreciate something until you loose it. I guess that's the case with light, every time I see a lamp or the sun or the moon or a star (not that you can see much through the leaves here) I keep feeling so blessed. I think I would rather die than go back into those mines. _

_Everything's going well here, a bit confusing in a couple cases, but still good. Maylin keeps running off, and I don't think she's going with Legolas. Tomorrow morning, I'll have to watch her like a hawk and see who she goes off with. You have to understand, this is quite a puzzle to me, we all thought for sure that she had feelings for Legolas, and for those who are looking, it's pretty obvious that he has them for her too. If she goes off and does something stupid I think I'll club her over the head with something... and it won't be a pillow._

_Leigh's back to normal... fully. Once she knew for sure that Jack was alright, it was like, "Oh look! We're in an Elven city! Let's check it out!" So she has a tendency to run off all of a sudden and pop up again a few hours later with a happy grin on her face. Than, naturally, she wants me to come see whatever it is she's found. To be fair, she's found some really cool stuff so far. And of course, if anyone tries to skip seeing Jack, they're in for it, she's very creative with her revenge. Some of the things she's done make me laugh, Filling the sheets on Maylin's bed with everyone's gear for instance. She said that she would have referred a fish to stick in there, but there weren't any that she could find._

The second day that they were there, Maylin was sitting by the little stream by their 'encampment' when Haldir came to visit.

"Greetings again, my lady," Haldir greeted.

"And greetings to you as well, my lord," she fumbled, jumping up. Why was it that she and her friends were always being sneaked up on?

"Please," he responded, "call me Haldir, my lady. I have seen that you and your friends are not... fond of titles."

"Very true," she laughed. "Then you have to call me Maylin, not 'my lady', otherwise it isn't fair."

"As you wish, Maylin," he smiled, as if testing how the name sounded on his tongue. "Your name almost sounds Elvish."

"Oh, it's not," she assured him. "My people aren't... err... familiar with Elves... exactly."

Haldir laughed. "You need not watch your words with me, the Lord and Lady saw it fit that I should know about your troop's history," he reassured her. "There is no need to be cautious with your tongue."

"Tongue... um," she blushed faintly. "I apologize for Leigh. You have to know her to really understand, but she really didn't mean to offend you or anything, she was just really worried about Jack and..."

"Don't worry," waving his hand as if to clear away the topic he continued, "Leigh already apologized for herself that night before we climbed up after the others."

"And I though she was just a rotten climber," Maylin muttered.

"I was wondering if you had seen much of the city," Haldir ventured.

"No, actually I haven't," Maylin replied.

"Would you like to accompany me for the day then," he asked, "and I could show a few of the beauties of Caras Galadhon?"

"I would love to," Maylin agreed, surprised by the offer.

After that, her days were spent with Haldir, exploring the Elven kingdom's one and only city and all of the wonders it held. The second day he came, he had began their conversation by talking about a magnificent gallery of ancient Elven art that had survived the ages. Of course, she had then asked if he would be so kind as to show them to her, and from that day forward they spent the days together high above in the flets and trees of Caras Galadhon. Never before had Maylin seen such wonders as she saw there. Every little detail had been given meticulous attention so that the vines curling around doorframes and pillars seemed to have grown from the wood they decorated, in a few cases they had actually.

As the days they spent together progressed, they shared longer and longer conversations together and Maylin began to notice that she had begun coming back to the others later as well. One night when she returned from her daily excursion, Leigh was sitting up, waiting for her in their tent.

"Back late," she commented as Maylin pushed aside the curtain blocking off the outside world.

"Mmm hmmm," she agreed.

"Might I ask why?"

"I was with Haldir," Maylin replied.

"So I take it that you've been with him _all_ of these past days?" Leigh asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Maylin frowned. "What's so wrong with that? It's not like we're _doing_ anything, I don't see a problem."

"No, obviously not," Leigh noted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maylin demanded.

"If you don't know then I don't think I can tell you," Leigh said flatly. Maylin opened her mouth to shoot out a smart remark but Leigh spoke faster, "Goodnight, Maylin."

This gave Maylin pause the next day as she ate breakfast with her friends. What on earth was Leigh talking about. She'd seemed disappointed in her for some reason, frustrated. She had made a point to see Jack everyday, especially since Leigh filled her bed with their equipment, so that ruled out that possibility. What was so wrong with going around with Haldir?

"Good moring," Haldir greeted the Fellowship as he stepped into the tent they were eating in. "There seems to be fewer of you this morning."

"Legolas has ran off to be with the other Elves and he took Gimli with him. They didn't come back last night, so they aren't eating breakfast with us today," Aragorn replied. "You are welcome to join us."

"Thank you, but no," Haldir bowed. "I came to find lady Maylin."

"Well you've found her," Merry pointed out.

"I'll be with you in a minute," Maylin said.

"I shall wait outside," Haldir smiled as he bowed out of the tent.

Leigh frowned at her food, idly spinning a random fruit that didn't look so appetizing anymore. How could Maylin not see what she was doing? Oh, she wanted to whack her upside the head! Poor Legolas! No wonder he stayed away from their camp so much, he was trying to break his crush on Maylin, and off she went with Haldir. Leigh still couldn't get that horrible meeting she's had with Legolas out of her head...

"_Excuse me," Legolas said quietly. Leigh looked up from the piece of wood she was carving and smiled at the elegant Elf._

"_Can I help you, Legolas?"_

"_Would you happen to know where lady Maylin is at the moment?" he asked._

"_Sorry," Leigh apologized. "I haven't seen much of her for the past couple days. She's probably still out with Haldir."_

"_Haldir?"_

"_He wanted to show her around Caras Galadhon," Leigh nodded. "May I ask why you're looking for her?"_

"_I have met a few Galadhrim that I thought she might enjoy meeting with me," he smiled._

"_Oh," Leigh paused. "I can tell her you'd like to see her the next time I meet up with her..."_

"_It is alright, my lady," he had responded. "If she is otherwise occupied, then I shall not interfere with any plans she may have."_

_Leigh's jaw had just about fallen off. Legolas was in _love_ with Maylin! She had known he had a crush or something like that, but that look on his face... if was as if he had finally found paradise only to see it be stolen by another searcher. Did Maylin have any idea about his feelings? If so, why had she agreed to go off with Haldir? Oh, no._

"Are you going to eat that or just watch it?" Boromir teased from beside her.

"I'm not actually that hungry anymore," Leigh sighed.

"Is something wrong?" he asked in concern.

"Not with me," Leigh snorted. "I'm gonna go see Jack," she added to Jaden.

The night air was cool and relaxing as Maylin climbed easily up the stair beside Haldir as they wound their way upwards. The eternal twilight beneath the trees of Lothlorien only deepened at night, turning it into an even more mysterious land of dreams and the beauty of lights. The bark of the tree next to her seemed to glow with quiet radiance in the gentle lights that illuminated the soft darkness around them. Sweet smells of fragrant flowers drifted around in the air from the gardens on the ground below and the flowers kept by the Elves in their lofty homes in the trees. It seemed that the white stairway they were ascending would go on forever, all the way to the stars and the moon. In the subtle stillness of the Elven evening, the trees seemed to breathe out silver peace after their day of golden glory in the sun.

"Close your eyes," Haldir instructed.

"What?" Maylin laughed.

"It's a surprise, now close your eyes," he insisted.

She complied and Haldir took her gently by the hand to lead her the rest of the was to their unknown destination. A breath of moving air brushed by her as she followed Haldir's guiding hand and fluttered the skirt of her long dress playfully before continuing down the curving stiars. Suddenly they were no longer climbing, but were walking across a broad, flat landing high above any other that Maylin had yet been shown.

"Lift your head up," Haldir instructed. "Now, open!"

Maylin gasped as she found herself staring up into the brad expanse of the star filled heavens. They had come out onto a flet on the topmost branch of the tree, so the sky could be seen across the horizon. The stars glittered above like the Silmarils of old and glinted in their glorious splendor.

"It's beautiful," Maylin breathed.

"Yes," Haldir agreed. "I believe that this is the most beautiful place in all of Lothlorien. I wanted to share it with you."

"Thank you," Maylin whispered, still gazing up at the stars. "Thank you so much for bringing me here."

Jaden was walking in the pleasant evening beneath the towering trees of Caras Galadhon when she saw the Lady Galadriel approaching her. Jaden swiftly bowed in greeting to the Lady, and Galadriel smiled gently at the young human girl. Silently, she motioned for Jaden to follow her. Stunned, Jaden complied.

They didn't go far before they came to a little clearing with a basin and pedestal standing gracefully in the middle of it. The Mirror of Galadriel.

"Do you know what this is?" Galadriel asked her in her pure Elven voice.

"The Mirror of Galadriel," Jaden nodded in awe.

"Then I assume you know it's purposes?" the Lady asked.

"Yes, it shows thing that were, are and may yet come to pass," Jaden replied.

"Would you like to look, Jaden?"

"_Me?_" Jaden asked. "But I'm not a Ringbearer or an especially vital member of the Fellowship!"

"You hold knowledge of the future already, do you not?" Galadriel asked.

"Well yes, but..." Jaden frowned. "To some extent, my friends and I have already altered those a bit."

"Indeed," Galadriel smiled. "But you still know a great deal, young one. Each of your friends is different, and different path lies at the feet of each one, a choice may lie before you soon."

"We've decided to stay together," Jaden replied. "I think I've already made that choice."

"But you still worry."

"Yeah," Jaden snorted. "Like you said, we've already changed things, and we probably will change even more before this is over, and I worry about what might happen if we weren't there to keep... a certain someone's... fate set. The Enemy might catch one of us, and then... if we can't warn him in time... things could go very wrong."

"Will you consult the mirror?" Galadriel invited. "But do not make your choice on just the things that the mirror reveals to you, for it can be perilous."

"Yes," Jaden frowned, "I know."

She stepped up cautiously to the water-filled basin. As she came near, the waters appeared to swirl in preparation of the vision they were about to find her. Then they stilled in their silver prison and vague colors began to come into focus.

_Leigh was sleeping on the ground, surrounded by long, soft grasses. A massive foot slammed down near her head and she jerked awake. Now Jaden could see that Leigh's hands were tied securely by thick, rough ropes that would undoubtedly give her another rope burn on her wrists. A large, heavy-looking Uruk-Hai grabbed her by the back of the neck and dragged her to her feet. There were cuts in the materiel of the tunic she was wearing, and nasty, red slashes were visible from the lashes of a whip. Her friend's face was grey with exhaustion, fatigue and pain. Nearby, Merry and Pippin were slung over the shoulders of two Uruks and the entire company set off at a run. If things continued in such a way, Leigh would soon die._

Then the image in the mirror changed, and Jaden found herself looking at Maylin.

_She must have been at Helm's Deep, for she was standing high on a battlement, gazing into the night sky. A long, sickly thin blade was dragged from its sheath at her side, and Maylin gazed at it in blank fascination. Silent tears slipped down her face and she fingered the blade. There was a sad, distant look to her features, and Jaden felt suddenly afraid for her friend. "Namarie mel nin!" she wailed. Then, with shocking speed, she plunged the dagger into her heart._

Jaden was gasping now, tears of her own forming in her eyes. But she didn't look away.

_Frodo was lying there, completely helpless at the mercy of the Nazgul towering over him. In a curled up heap, Sam's body was slumped on the hard stones of Mordor. Now the Nazgul leaned forward, and with a victorious shriek, tore the Ring from around the Hobbit's neck._

_There was a man leaning against the cruel, stone wall, attached to it by heavy chains that had worn the skin from his wrists and now blood trickled down along his arms and into the tattered remnants of his sleeves. He raised his battered head and Jaden could see that the prisoner was Aragorn. The most terrible thing of all was the look in his eyes, the look of utter defeat and hopelessness._

Jaden reeled back from the Mirror and looked at Galadriel, as if she could tell her what it was she had just seen.

"There is a choice before you," the Lady nodded. "Stay with your friends and try to ensure their safety, or go with the Ringbearer, and try to save this world."

"Maybe those things that happened to my friends will only happen if I stay with them," Jaden tried to reason.

"It is possible," Galadriel consented. "But it is also possible that those things will result from your leaving them."

"I need to think," Jaden muttered.

"Yes," Galadriel smiled. "You do."

Jack watched Leigh pace across his room. She had arrived that morning, and she had given up talking quite awhile ago, and then the pacing had begun.

"You could just tell me what's bothering you," Jack pointed out.

"I don't want to spread gossip," Leigh replied.

"Leigh," Jack sighed in frustration, "there is a difference between gossiping and two friends trying to solve a problem."

"I don't think there's anything that we could do," Leigh snorted.

"Prove it."

"Well, changing the heart of either a very stubborn young woman or the heart of an Elvish prince."

"Oh no!" Jack moaned.

"Oh yes," she retorted.

"Please continue."

"Haldir's been going out with Maylin for the past few days... more than few. Then Legolas came looking for her, and she was off with Haldir. I think we've got one fickle nut case on our hands, and one heartbroken prince."

"This is a problem."

"Understand my issues now?"

"Unfortunately," Jack laughed. "I'll try to think about it tonight after you go back and get some rest. You really should probably go now, you know, if the healers come in and see you're still here, they'll have a cow."

"Alright," Leigh sniffed, "I can take a hint."

"Hey, Leigh," Jack called as she started slipping past the curtain. Leigh turned around. Jack blew a raspberry at her, she returned the favor.

"Err... there's one last thing..."

"Out with it, Leigh."

"I don't think... I think it would be best if... it would be safer if... if you would stay in Lothlorien when we leave," leigh choked out. There were a few moments of silence and then a sigh.

"I though you'd ask that," Jack chuckled slightly.

"And...?"

"I think you're right, I want to go and I'm ticked that I can't, but you're right," Jack admitted.

"So you'll stay here?"

"Yeah, for awhile anyway," Jack agreed.

"Thank you, Jack," Leigh sighed.

As soon as Leigh stepped outside of Jack's room, she nearly ran into Boromir.

"Oh, hi," she stammered.

"I apologize," he laughed. "I came to find you. You've been away from the camp pretty much all day and... I was getting worried about you."

"That's very considerate of you, Boromir," Leigh smiled. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"I find it increasingly difficult not to."

Leigh actually blushed as she ducked her head to study the floor. Suddenly she was very glad that Jack couldn't see her face.

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me back down to the ground?" Boromir asked, extending his arm to her. She slipped her arm through his and beamed at him.

"I'd love to."

Jack leaned back in his bed, completely exhausted now. Leigh was heading into dangerous waters, and she didn't even realize it! If she let her emotions run off with her, she might ruin the entire story or something equally dramatic, Leigh didn't believe in doing anything the small, simple way. True, Boromir did seem to honestly care about her, but Jack still didn't fully trust him, and that unnerved him. There were so many what-ifs that it was impossible to know what exactly was the right decision. Who knew? Maybe things would work out alright in the end after all. Unlikely though. Oh, he wished he could go with them all! He wanted to do his share in the war against Sauron and he felt like all he could do was get himself hurt. There would be danger ahead for them, he was sure of it.

Time in Lothlorien slipped on by as it had for the past few days, slowly and easily until, suddenly, it was gone. The day Aragorn announced that they must continue, there were several rather indiscreet groans from the younger members of the Fellowship. Aragorn had agreed with Leigh's decision concerning Jack, and had spoken to the Elves, leaving him in their able hands. Any business left undone was wrapped up, gear was stuffed into bags, and then it was time to go.

Jack was still unable to leave his bed and he made it very clear how upset he was over the inability of seeing them off. The feeling was mutual among the four, and they asked leave of Aragorn to go and see him one last time before they left.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," Jack tried to laugh past his misty eyes.

"Hey, that makes four of us," Jaden pointed out.

"What am I going to do without you all coming in to bother me all the time?" Jack asked.

"Aggravate the Elves," Leigh advised.

"They have my life in their hands at the moment, I don't think that's the best idea," Jack chuckled. "Promise me that you guys will take care of yourselves, K?"

"Promise," the other three said together

"And, uh, keep an eye on each other, alright?"

"Oh, trust me we will," Maylin grinned.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Who me?" Leigh asked.

"And... be safe, ok?" now Jack had tears starting to brim over his eyes.

"We will, Jack," Leigh hugged him. Then each one came up and repeated the gesture, leaving him with three, long, deeply-felt hugs.

"Namarie, mellon nin!"

"Namarie."


	14. The River Rushes On

Disclaimer: This day I do solemnly (sorta) declare that I do not own the Lord of the Rings! Hear ye hear ye! There, that good enough?

A/N: Before I forget (again) everyone, the random reviewer who knows me is Josh. Everyone, this is Josh, Josh, this is everyone. There, now everyone knows each other! Ok, this chap is mediocre, so please forgive. The writing style stinks on this one, but after this things should start to get better. Enjoy! See you at the end.

The River Rushes On

The Fellowship landed their boats on the grassy bank where the Lord and Lady were waiting for them with their entourage. The sky was clear and the sun was visible without quite so many trees as grew in Caras Galadhon. Her hair blown by a light wind, Leigh stepped out of the boat that she had been riding in with her two friends and moved toward where the Elves were laying out the food, she was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't lembas. She liked the strange, Elvish bread, but she knew that she would be eating a good deal of it in the near future and she wanted to eat a variety while she still could.

The meal was quiet until Celeborn began giving Aragorn directions and advice on how to navigate the river without losing any of his company. The three that were left of the Four were still feeling the stinging loss of Jack's company on the rest of their trip, and there was now a darker shade on their view of the journey they had set out on. They were all vulnerable to death, and death was searching for them even then, so there was no guarantee that they would all come out alive in the end. Sure, martyrdom was wonderfully heroic and blah-blah-blah and was inspiring to read about in books, but for them this was real, and you couldn't simply go back and reread the parts where the martyred character had still been alive.

Then Galadriel rose from the grass and passes about the cup of parting, the three had some trouble with the mead, not at all used to alcohol. But after that came the gift giving, and all of the three watched with smiles as the fabulous wonders were doled out to their new friends and companions. Then, slightly to their surprise, Galadriel turned to them after she had given the three strands of her hair to Gimli.

"The four of you have not escaped from my eye," she laughed.

"But, my Lady," Jaden frowned. "There are only three of us here."

"Nonetheless, Jack is also a member of your company, even though he cannot be with us here," she explained gently. She pulled out an exquisite harp overlaid with gold and silver leaves like those that grew on the trees of Lorien. "This," she said, "belongs to Jack, and when he is well enough, a worthy musician of my kingdom will instruct him in its use." Then she turned to Maylin.

"You are a worthy archer, lady Maylin," she announced and produced a bow and quiver that looked a lot like Legolas'. "Now you have weapons that equal your talent and future talents. May they serve you well." Jaden was next.

"I know not what you shall face in the quest of your choice," she said softly. Then she handed her an excellent, slight, mail shirt that shone brilliantly in the sun. "It is not Mithril, but it is light and sturdy, may it protect you from the forces of darkness that shall rise against you. And there is a dagger as well, so that the prey may fight back." Last of the three, she turned to Leigh.

"Lady Leigh," she smiled. "You are a power unto yourself, and the leader of the Four. There are two things I would give you, for the two different sides of your heart." While Leigh blinked for a moment, the Lady brought out first a slim, Elven sword. "This is for your battle against the darkness, young one. The sword you bear is, like Maylin's bow, unworthy of you." Leigh looked in awe at the runes running down the blade. "This sword was crafted specifically for you, so, also like you, it's legacy has yet to be formed. The runes say: 'I am Nolemacil, Loresword. I serve the Lady of Lore, may Mordor fear the blade of knowledge."

"Thank you, my Lady," Leigh breathed.

"And then there is this," she held to the light a beautiful Elven jewel of deep blue that looked like it had been plucked from the depths of the sea and hardened into a gem that hung in a silver pendant ornately wrought. "It is a lesser jewel than that which Elessar now bears, but it fits you well I think, and it is to remind you of the other side of your heart."

"Again," Leigh stammered, "I thank you, my Lady. No other gifts in the world could compare with these."

"You are very much welcome, Leigh," Galadriel smiled sweetly.

The currant in the river was very strong, constantly causing problems for the three girls in their little boat. They had nearly capsized them once already, and poor Jaden had almost found herself up the creek without a paddle... literally. Besides that, there were mosquitoes. Leigh _hated_ mosquitoes, not that everyone else didn't, but she did especially. Why hadn't Tolkien mentioned the 'skeeters'? Nasty, annoying, buzzing little blood-suckers, why did they have to exist anywhere? When she got to Heaven, Leigh didn't plan on asking God some great, mysterious question, she would walk right up and ask, "Why, _why_ did you have to make mosquitoes? What possible purpose do they serve in life besides causing general misery?" Besides that, the trip was cold, wet and every night the members of the Fellowship stretched like there was no tomorrow. Even Maylin's legs were getting cramps from being folded up all day long, of course her friends were quick to point that out. Whenever they camped, there was inevitably a nice little bank of mud awaiting them patiently in its sloppy glory. No other boat had to step in a mud hole every evening, just the three girls. Jaden was beginning to suspect Aragorn of having them land at the muddiest spot possible on purpose.

In a desperate attempt to lighten the atmosphere, the remaining three began trying to shove their companions' boats ever so slightly aside whenever they had the opportunity. At first it was rather easy, the trusting fools let them row up right beside them and then, suddenly, they would be moving in a slightly different direction. Boromir was the first one to get wise about the game, and actually retaliated by shoving their boat right back. Soon, that ruled him out as a possible target, which was very sad, because there is nothing funnier than hearing a Hobbit squeal, "You're going the wrong way! What are you doing! Oh! Oh! Eeeaak!" Then of course, Aragorn figured out what the three young ladies were up to.

"And what purpose could knocking our boats off course possibly serve?" he demanded one day as the girls tried to approach Legolas and Gimli without being spotted.

"It increases everyone's paddling abilities!" Jaden chirped.

"Just don't lose your paddle... again," Aragorn pointed out. "You were lucky Pippin caught it out of the water. I doubt you would be so lucky twice."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Jaden laughed.

The day began to melt into a golden evening, lighted by the sinking sun, trickling below the horizon with all its light. Bits of the remaining shards of light plunged and glinted off of the water that the four boats floated in, letting the currant pull them along for a little ways. They had begun leaving the shore later and later, letting the dark approach to shield them. Little fist could occasionally be seen going along under the surface of the great river.

It was strange, Maylin thought, that the darkness out there was so calming and gave the feeling of wearing a large cloak that shrouded her from unfriendly eyes on the opposite shore. As opposed to Moria, where the dark had been a threatening being, trying to choke them all and give the goblins the advantage in its black folds of space. It was so peaceful here, she could just imagine how the Elves must have felt, waking up in a similar darkness, seeing the stars beaming down at them like courtiers beholding the new born royalty of the land. She felt so... safe.

Leigh aimed their boat towards Legolas' and Gimli's and poked her friends, pointing toward their target. They would probably only do this once tonight, she felt tired and the idea of extra paddling didn't sound too inviting. That was probably why Aragorn had just let the matter go, he knew they wouldn't want to keep in up long. Blast. It was so much fun.

The night wore on with the steady, quiet splashes of the paddles until the sun woke up again and peeked over the opposite side of the world. Then they all followed Aragorn, once again, to the shore and drew their boats up on the shore. To Jaden's delight, she jumped out to land in sand for once instead of mucky mud.

Boromir was growing tense, everyone could see it, and some of them began to sense more than just his unease, and began growing jumpy. Honestly, none of the three knew if their presence would affect his actions and if so in what way.

All of them had wondered why the Ring didn't seem to tempt them, Maylin had suggested that it had to do with the fact that they weren't really from Middle Earth, either that or it was a sexist Ring. That had made Leigh crack up.

Then the eighth night arrived and the three jumped at every little sound. Anything that moved or breathed might be an Orc, and they would react as such.

Jaden was the first to figure it out that they had hit the rapids... their boat knocking around on a few inconvenient rocks was a pretty good hint. The water was flowing quickly around them, drawing them towards the ragged boulders and rough waters of the rapids. She had gone white water rafting once, at that moment, she was running over all the things to do if your boat happened to hit a rock. Needless to say, those thoughts weren't encouraging.

Leigh battled with the paddle in her grasp. The water gulped at it, trying to suck it in amidst the rushing river and deadly rocks. This wasn't fun, not at all. What was taking Aragorn so long in turning back?

Finally the word was shouted back to turn back. A bit late though. The boats and their occupants battles fiercely against the tide, but found themselves being pushed toward the eastern shore along with all its wonderful rocks and breakers. Maylin's arms screamed in anger at the sudden strain of the rushing water they were trying to resist. The thought did cross her mind that she was about to die... a couple times actually.

Then she heard the song of a bow string releasing.

"Down!" she warned her friends. Leigh and Jaden immediately got as low as they could in the boat while still trying to row to safety.

They rowed like Sauron was on their heals. Finally they broke from the grasp of the rapids and paddled themselves to the relative shelter of the opposite bank. By the time they halted under the bushes, all three were panting for breath.

"Err... Jaden," Leigh frowned.

"What?"

"There's an arrow in your hood."

Jaden yelped and flicked her hand up to verify the story. It was true. Quickly, she snapped off the end of the arrow and jerked out the two different ends.

"That is _not_ comforting," she announced, tossing the broken pieces into the water.

"If it weren't for the cloaks," Maylin said affectionately stroking her own grey cloak. "I think they would have nailed us."

"I don't think so," Leigh snorted, "I know so."

"Is everyone in your boat alright?" Legolas whispered through the darkness.

"We're all good," Leigh told him. Then the shadow fell over them and the girls huddles down together in the bottom of their boat. They knew that presence, that terror, but this time they were among friends that could help them. When Legolas shot the thing Jaden felt Leigh actually pump her fist in the air. She smirked again.

After that came the awful portage. They hadn't slept, they were tired from rowing so hard, and now they had to drag heavy baggage across a rough game trail that might once have been worthy of the title 'trail'. Now however, it was disheveled and rocky, and nowhere near suitable for carrying heavy boats across. Leigh pitied Boromir and Aragorn... and she was also very glad that she wasn't a man. The sun felt hot for once, naturally just when they didn't want it to be. At the end of the day, they all collapsed in weary piles.

"Tonight two must keep watch at a time," Aragorn ordered, "three hours off and one on guard."

"Will you be my watching buddy?" Maylin groggily asked Leigh.

"Sure," Leigh replied from the ground.

"Who'll be my buddy?" Jaden frowned.

"I'll watch with you!" Merry and Pippin declared at the same time.

"Errr," Jaden paused. "We only need two at a time you guys."

"No fighting," Aragorn ordered the two young Hobbits. "Jaden can keep watch with Gimli tonight."

"Some how I suspect that the only thing Gimli will be watching tonight is the inside of his eyelids," Leigh whispered in Maylin's ear. She snickered, the Dwarf was, even then, sitting nearby and nodding off.

The night slipped by quickly, and Jaden found that she was glad of the time alone... mostly alone anyway, Gimli's occasional snores didn't really count. The visions of her friends, both old and new, bothered her seriously. What way should she go? Wait, why was she tormenting herself? She had already made up her mind, and the next day would be the day the Fellowship was broken.

The bright morning of the tenth day would have easily deceived anyone who didn't know what was about to happen. Someone was going to die, people were going to be kidnaped and two brave little Hobbits were going to go off and risk their lives to save the world. A lot to happen on such a fair day.

Maylin shuddered in foreboding, a little slip of her hinted a warning of the approaching Uruks and insisted that she leave. But she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the urge to escape, where would she go anyway? No, she would stay with her friends.

Before everyone sat down and Frodo decided to go off alone by himself, Leigh made a point to speak to him, relatively alone.

"Frodo," she said quietly, catching him at one of the rare moments that Sam wasn't sitting loyally by his side. "I wanted to tell you something."

"Your advice is welcome, Leigh," the worn Hobbit smiled sadly. Leigh chuckled.

"It's not exactly advice, you know I can't give you that. But I want to say now, before you make your decision, that I have never been around such an inspiring person before, no matter their size. I think you should know though, not everything depends on how well you can wield a sword or chant spells, it's about your heart, nothing else. If I were to tell you to follow something, I would say that you should follow your heart, and your heart alone."

"Thank you," Frodo nodded. "I think I needed that."

"I know," Leigh grinned before rising and walking off.

The three made a point to not take part in the conversation concerning Frodo. No one asked them to either, it was common knowledge that they knew what path he'd choose. Leigh didn't look at Boromir after Frodo left, afraid of what she might see on his face and not wanting to hinder him from what he must do. She had made up her mind about something awhile ago, something she hadn't told the others, and now she would soon have to act.

Maylin sighed in frustration and flopped to the ground beside Legolas, the only empty space available. She didn't even notice the look he gave her. She was so fed up with waiting, who knew that sitting around doing nothing at all could be so stressful? Now she just wanted Boromir to show his thrice blasted face so she could do... something. She had no idea what, but something! Boromir... on man. She looked over at Leigh. Boromir was gone now, and Leigh was pale, her hands clenched at her sides. 'And you think you've got issues,' Maylin thought to herself.

Jaden studied a pine cone far more than any one pine cone deserved to be studied in its entire, meager life time. She had dissected the thing so that there were no longer any pieces that were longer than a half a centimeter. Tense was an understatement, she was going to go crazy. There was a certain quote from a favorite TV show spinning through her head pertaining to going 'whacko' (A/N kudos to whoever can tell me what I'm referring to). 'Hurry up those fuzzy feet of yours, Frodo!' she thought.

Then Boromir timidly approached the campsite, Maylin thought his hands might have even been shaking. 'Serves you right you oversized, Ring stealing...' she glanced at Leigh and didn't finish that thought.

"Where have you been, Boromir?"

"I went to try to persuade Frodo to take the Ring to Minas Tirith," Boromir said slowly. "I grew angry and he left me... he vanished."

"He put the ring on," Merry gawked.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"This is bad!" declared Sam. Then all chaos broke loose and everyone ran off to find Frodo... or whoever it may be that they were looking for.

Maylin dashed off helter-skelter into the woods, having no idea what she was doing or where she was going. Legolas ran along beside her, scanning the underbrush for signs of the missing Hobbit.

Jaden ran about twenty yards into the trees, stopped, hid, waited for the others to clear out (that didn't take long) and returned. Then she crouched down, gathering up the few things she'd taken out of her pack, and waited for Frodo to come.

Leigh pounded along beside Boromir, her resolve growing with the determination she saw spreading across the man's face. Her feet beat the earth in a steady rhythm, her head was raised high, and she pulled in the air through her nose to sustain her moving body's need of oxygen.

They found the Hobbits faster than Leigh would have liked she would have been perfectly happy if they just kept running until the One Ring was destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. Of course, she knew that wasn't going to happen, so she tried to harden her resolution into action as they came in sight of Merry and Pippin. Boromir swung his sword into the head of the first orc he came to, sending it tumbling away with blood spurting from the side of its head. Leigh followed suit by plunging her sleek, Elven blade into the heart of an oncoming Uruk-Hai.

When she saw the bow of a certain, ambitious orc being drawn back, she grabbed Boromir away from the battle and swung out of sight of the attackers. He blinked at her in confusion.

"You have to trust me," she told him.

"I do," he nodded.

"Good," Leigh took a deep breath. "If anything... happens... come after me, Boromir." Then, before either of them could think, she whacked him over the head with the hilt of her sword, then pushed his weight so that he tumbled down the hill. Nodding in satisfaction when she saw a drift of leaves half bury him, and keep him from obvious sight by the Uruk-Hai, she spun to return to the battle.

Her face was inches away from a massive, grinning Uruk-Hai. She screamed, and the she herself was conked on the head, her sword tumbled from her hand, and she was surrounded by darkness.

A/N: Everybody expecting that? I seem incapable of surprising people anymore. Oh, well, I still have fun! Evil giggle Is this a good cliff hanger? Hhmm? Reviews PLEASE!


	15. Blood in the Grass

Disclaimer: Wouldn't be intersting if I actually owned the Lord of the Rings? But I don't so there, are all the lawyers satisfied?

A/N: Hi again! Sorry it took so long to get this one up! See you at the end!

Blood in the Grass

The bushes swung apart by the edge of the shore and then back together again without any apparent use of force. Jaden looked up and smiled slightly at the place where she had a hunch that a lone, frightened Hobbit was standing.

"Hello, Frodo," she said quietly. "Don't bother reappearing, I know you're there. I... I want to come with you."

"I'm going alone, Jaden," a frightened voice informed her.

"I _need_ to go with you, Frodo," Jaden replied. "I think... I have this feeling that I _have_ to go with you, I can't explain it. I know how things are supposed to go, and I think I might be able to keep them that way or something, I don't know, all I know is that my heart and gut say to go with you. This isn't easy for me, I promise you, but I really do need to, Frodo. Please trust me."

"Jaden..."

"Listen, please!" Jaden nearly shouted. "If I were you I wouldn't feel like trusting anyone right now either, but the Ring doesn't tempt me, Frodo! I swear it! The thing hasn't once tried to get in my head and mess with me. I wouldn't lie, Frodo."

"I know you wouldn't, Jaden..."

"You can't stop me you know," she said stubbornly. "If you don't let me get in the same boat, I'll just use another one, or if all else fails, I'll swim across."

"Mr Frodo!"

Jaden cocked her head and Frodo pushed off with one of the boats. Jaden jumped in and ducked down in the stern, she had no intention of messing up the feelings shared by Frodo and Sam at this point. That wouldn't do, she was here to make sure the story stayed the same.

Another bolt shot out from Maylin's bow as she covered Aragorn and Gimli from attackers charging from awkward angles. There were large, ugly bodies strewn about around them, and Maylin had been quick to notice the white hand of Saruman slapped on them. Yet another orc fell to the ground with an arrow jutting from its neck. Maylin was beginning to figure out just how the Elves kept so clean in a battle, they shot from a distance, there wasn't much chance of any blood flying that far and hitting them. A deep, resounding note echoed through the forest and they all whirled toward the sound. Determinedly, they began hacking and shooting their way towards the origin of the blast. Maylin gritted her teeth and tried to ready herself for the look she was going to see on Leigh's face. She was not looking forward to it.

When they reached the place from whence the note had come, the orcs and Uruk-Hai were gone, they had all been killed or had run off with their trophies. Poor Merry and Pippin, she did not envy what they were about face... she didn't envy what _sh_e was about to face. Then she realized that something was very, _very wrong_. She spun around and tried to see Leigh in the bushes around her, or Boromir's body, for she would be with him right now. Then she saw Boromir staggering up the hill... without any arrows sticking out of his chest...and no Leigh.

"Boromir," Aragorn barked, rushing over to him. "What has happened? Where are the halflings? And where is Leigh?"

"I... I don't know," Boromir stuttered, looking around. The a light dawned in his eyes and he yelled in agony and fell to the ground. "They have taken them! Leigh and I were guarding the Hobbits, then she pulled me behind a tree... she must have hit me over the head... Leigh! She's gone!"

"What did you _DO!_" Maylin roared stepping toward him. "What did you do to make Leigh act like such an idiot?"

Boromir looked up at her with grieved eyes. "I did nothing, my lady," he said softly.

"You were supposed to die!" Maylin fumed. "Leigh was supposed to still be here, with us! Now she might be dead because of you!" Legolas gently restrained Maylin from all-out charging the man. Aragorn sighed and closed his eyes.

"Leigh has risked her life to defend you, Boromir. And," he sighed again, "she has knowingly changed the course of fate."

"Why?" Maylin moaned, now that the anger was mostly past she was on the verge of tears.

"Let's look around," Aragorn advised. "She might... still be nearby. But first we must find Frodo."

"I shall stay with lady Maylin," Legolas replied, "and look for lady Leigh." Aragorn nodded briefly and then charged off with Gimli and a very reluctant Boromir to find a trace of the ringbearer.

Legolas carefully led Maylin around the trees, looking for signs of her companion, and his friend

The heavy feet of the Uruk-Hai had obliterated much of what might have told them how the attack had progressed, but now there were enormous footprints stamped across the soft earth and it was difficult to find the lighter prints of the young woman and Hobbits. Finally, though, they found where the two Hobbits had made their last stand. Maylin didn't really listen as Legolas grimly told her how the events had unfolded, she already knew. She stepped absently around the tree and froze.

"Legolas," she breathed. He was beside her in a heartbeat, bending over and examining the ground and the graceful, Elven sword lying on the ground.

"She was taken," Legolas murmured, "right after she hit Boromir, I think. Come, we must tell the others." He quickly scooped up the young blade and headed back towards the river. Maylin trotted beside him, looking at the sword with tearful eyes. The sun glinted off the clean areas of the sword, looking like reflected tear drops. 'So you morn the loss of her as well,' Maylin thought.

"Aragorn!" Legolas called. The Men and Dwarf looked up from their examination of the river side to see the two Elves rushing towards them. "She has been taken by the orcs, I do not know if she yet lives, but I do not believe they would have taken a dead body with them."

"Frodo, Sam and Jaden have crossed the river," Aragorn informed them.

"What!" Maylin reeled. "Have all my friends gone crazy!"

"I believe they would say that they already had," Gimli smiled gently, trying to soothe her as best he could.

"We believe Frodo intends to go on from here with no other company," Aragorn continued to Legolas.

"Then we must decide whether to go after him or rescue lady Leigh and the Hobbits," Legolas frowned.

"It would seem so."

"What think you, Aragorn? Which path shall we take?"

"Frodo knows what he is doing, I think," Aragorn paused, "but was not the purpose of this Fellowship to protect him?"

'Was the purpose, was,' Maylin thought, staring across the river.

"But I cannot leave those three to torment and death," Aragorn said firmly, Maylin shuddered involuntarily. "What's more, lady Leigh is one of the Four Wanderers, and knows what the future holds. I shudder to think what should happen if she should fall into the hands of our enemies."

'You and me both,' Maylin said in her head.

"Wait!" Maylin yelped, suddenly remembering something. She marched over to Boromir, grabbed his horn, and gently laid it in the river.

"Should I bother asking why you did that?" Aragorn asked.

"No."

"Well then," he grinned. "Let's hunt some orc."

Leigh didn't want to open her eyes, but there was something banging into her side... and it hurt. Her head hurt too. Slowly, she pried her eyes open and found herself in a nightmare.

Massive monsters were crouched around something nearby, the camp she was in reeked, even though it couldn't have been pitched for long, and, worst of all, one of the Uruks was shoving his foot in her side, probably trying to wake her.

"Wake up," he ordered in a grating voice. "Soon you must run, lazy bones."

For the first time, Leigh took in her own condition. It wasn't good, she could feel a bruise spreading from where the nasty, oversized thing had kicked her in the side, the side of her head felt sticky, she assumed with blood, and, worst of all, her hands were tied, again. At the moment her legs were also bound, but from what the Uruk had said, they wouldn't be for long, she was obviously too big for them to carry like they did the Hobbits. The Hobbits!

Merry and Pippin were lying a yard or two away to her right, and Pippin was awake and alert. Merry was still unconscious, and Leigh didn't like the looks of the gash on his forehead, no wonder that sucker left a scar. Pippin was closest, and he wiggled closer to her with worry written obviously over his face.

"Are you all right, my lady?" he whispered.

"Injured I may be," she wheezed, shocked at how weak her voice was, "but my name hasn't changed, Pip." Pippin gave a small smile.

"Leigh," he hissed hurriedly, "I've managed to get my..."

"I know," Leigh gasped quietly. Pippin gave her a very wide-eyed look, nodded and then looked at the side of her head.

"Your head looks pretty bad," he told her.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks," Leigh tried to reassure him. "Oh, I _hate_ having my hands tied with ropes! Did I ever tell you about the last time I was captured. Pippin?"

The little Hobbit listened in silent joy as she relayed some of the adventures she had gone through with her friends before they had met each other. She was very much relieved to see that he was successfully distracted from the peril of their situation. Up until the captain dragged her to her feet, slashed the ropes from her legs and shoved her into the pack of running creatures.

Leigh tried to ignore the pain spreading slowly across her side, but with each step it intensified. There was a nasty little headache that had decided to pop its evil little head into her skull. She had endured headaches before, she had received bruises before, but these were the ones to beat all. A part of her said darkly that, if they reached Isengard, this would seem like paradise compared to the torture she would suffer at the hands of Saruman and the Eye. That didn't exactly encourage her speed and she slipped back a little in the dashing crush of bodies.

_Crack!_ The sharp lash of a whip lashed around her legs and she bit back a yell. Her step staggered for a moment and she was afraid she might fall and the lash would be amply applied to her back until she arose. Then she regained her balance and she was pounding along again, this time surrounded by a moving circle of running guards. A few coarse insults were flung at her from her ring of armed kidnapers.

When they finally stopped, Leigh sank to the ground in an exhausted lump. Sure, she ran some at home, but nothing like this, and not when she might have a concussion along with a badly bruised side. While she desperately dragged in deep breaths of the cool air, Pippin scooted over to her once again. She quickly raised a hand to signal silence, the she dropped her necklace into his bound hands.

"Take good care of that," she told him. He stared at her blankly, she waved a hand. "You'll figure it out."

Then Ugluk came bearing the dreaded flask of 'liquid fire' as the Four had teasingly called it when they discussed the stories from the safety of the living couch. Pippin didn't get the honor of going first, Leigh did. She tried to block the vile stuff from going in her mouth, but the much larger, and much stronger, orc won out and poured the fiery drink down her throat. She choked and sputtered on the foul drink, half wondering what on earth was in it, half not wanting to know. Pippin received the same treatment after her, being held up by his hair until the potent liquid could take hold and keep him on his feet. Poor Merry came last of all, he still hadn't said anything or opened his eyes, but after the cruel orc smeared the brown stuff over the cut in his head and poured the flaming drink down his throat he was able to stand on his own.

"You look terrible," she commented, earning a tired smile.

"So you two came on this little holiday as well I see," he said. "When do we get bed and breakfast?"

"No talking!" the orc roared.

Leigh felt really tempted to say, "Mr. Bossy," but she wasn't overly fond of getting kicked, hit, or whipped, so she kept her mouth shut. It was doubtful that an orc would be as forgiving as an Elf in the area of name calling. Traveling with people (or orcs) who have a grudge against you can make the trip a torture, and she didn't want to see how these guys paid back insults... he probably wouldn't even get it anyway.

The next run didn't go so well. With her legs turning to rubber, her thoughts drifting into the great black oblivion of sleep deprivation, and the occasional lash of the whip across her legs and back, she could barely keep to her feet, let alone keep up with the insane pace. Merry and Pippin seemed to be fairing the same. Several times, Leigh heard the harsh reprisal of a whip somewhere out of sight behind the heavy bodies and a sharp yip of pain in response. She knew when Pippin ran for it, and she wished with all her heart that he might somehow defy the story and get clear of the monsters holding them captive, but when she heard him cry out from the bite of the lash, she knew that her dim hopes had been in vain. The rest of the day wore on in a never stopping blur of motion and pain, it seemed that all of her wounds were growing worse from the severe exercise they were being treated to. Everything was growing darker around her, and she prayed that it was just night and she wasn't losing her vision. The world was reduced to the thud of orc and Uruk feet and the constant fear and pain that had flooded in with the loss of blood from her head. The wound had been acting up all day, but Ugluk never noticed it, evidently it wasn't as obvious as poor Merry's gash in his forehead. Her hair covered her injury, but every now and then she could feel the trickle of fresh blood dripping down around her ear. At this rate, it was only a matter of time.

The announcement of the coming horsemen brought her little hope, she wouldn't be able to crawl away to safety like the Hobbits, she had a hunch that once her legs stopped this endless beating, they wouldn't be able to hold her again for awhile. The Uruks seemed to know it too and didn't stop their relentless pace or slow in the slightest all through the following day and into the next, sounds of distant hooves and sights of strong riders probably encouraged them to keep it up. Leigh wished for water, that was another thing Tolkien hadn't mentioned: she felt like she was going to die of thirst if exhaustion didn't kill her first. At least the Hobbits would escape... wouldn't they?

Maylin dashed along steadily beside her new friends. Her world was in turmoil, her three friends had been scattered to the winds. One of them had been left behind in Lothlorien to recover from his grievous wound, one was on her merry way to Mordor along with who knew what evils and danger, and one might already be dead, either that or she was the prisoner of merciless Uruk-Hai who were undoubtedly whipping her to encourage speed. Maylin choked back a sob mid-leap.

Legolas, who was immediately to her right, looked over in concern. The young Elf had been silent since they had begun their trek to rescue their other friends from the hands of the orcs, and that worried him. He tried to imagine what she must be enduring at that moment, then he decided to think about other things. Maylin had known Leigh since... who knew... but they were very close, and only once before had there ever been any real danger to one of the Four. Now one of them might be dead already, and there was nothing they could do but continue running as they were.

"Halt!" Aragorn yelled. Then he went off, slightly away from the trail of the Uruks. When he returned, Maylin knew what he would bring: Pippin's brooch.

"An Elven brooch!" Legolas and Gimli said at the same time.

"Indeed," Aragorn agreed, then he turned to Maylin. "I found this also," he continued, raising the pendant Leigh had been given in Lothlorien.

"She is alive!" Boromir cried.

"Or at least was," Aragorn agreed. Maylin's face fell a little and he continued, "Leigh is a strong young woman, I do not believe that she will succumb before the Hobbits, so fear not, Maylin, have faith in her."

"When we find those foul creatures they shall wish they had never kidnaped the young friends of Gimli!" Gimli growled, gripping his axe. "No one meddles with friends of mine!"

"I concur," Legolas nodded, a fire kindling in his eyes.

"May the Valar protect her," Boromir whispered, staring off into the distance.

"Come!" Aragorn called, running ahead, "Let us continue our chase!"

Leigh crumpled to the ground when they finally stopped, Pippin and Merry were thrown down beside her, but she couldn't muster her tongue to form words, all she could emit was a small, pitiful moan. The wound on her head was bleeding again, and the warm, thick feel of blood coated her neck. She wanted to sleep, just go to sleep and never wake up... at least for a year... or two. In school, she had read that the body heals itself best in sleep, if that were true, then it was no wonder she wasn't healing.

"Pippin," she managed to choke out. The little Hobbit lifted his head slightly to listen. "If you get a chance, run for it, don't try and rescue me, you understand?"

"No, Leigh," he whispered back. "We aren't going to leave you!"

"You have to," she hissed. "I am not a vital part of this story, it will go on without me, but you two have to make it out of this! Just do it, Pip, please."

"Up!" a rough voice bellowed above her head.

Leigh gave her two friends one last, pleading look before she was dragged off away from them. For a minute she thought they were going to kill her right there and then, but then she found herself shoved up against a tree and ropes being jerked around her. When the orcs finished, they left a small guard at the tree, more likely meant to kill her should the Rohirim break through than make sure she didn't escape.

The next thing to claim Leigh's attention was the battle with fatigue. If she didn't stay awake, it was very likely that she wouldn't survive the oncoming battle, she would be skewered by her 'guards', hit by a stray arrow, or run through by a well meaning Rider. None of the above sounded too good, so it was sleep and death, or alertness and possible survival. Oh, but the dark blankness sounded so good, so peaceful, so painless. Black lines constantly limited her vision and she had a distant thought wondering if she was going to pass out.

The puny excuse for a tree she was tied to was a dead, straggly thing that might once have been alive... a very, very long time ago. Leigh wondered if she could pull the trick that she had when they first arrived, but realized that such an endeavor would take quite a few hours... and she didn't have 'quite a few hours'. Besides, her wrists were already very raw from the rough rub of the ropes and even her ability to handle pain had its limits.

A raucous cry split the air as the realization hit the Uruks and orcs that a group of their enemies had slipped in and killed off a few of their number unnoticed. Leigh accidentally let slip a small, barely perceptible cheer and the only one of her guards left who hadn't panicked and fled, slapped her hard across the face.

"Quiet!" he roared, Leigh complied.

Then the Riders attacked with their full strength and her guard was obviously torn between staying at his post and running for his life. Blast, she would have to be assigned to one of the few loyal Uruks there were! All around them, a battle was breaking out in loud clashes of steel on steel and the meaty sound of blades meeting flesh. An orc charged out of nowhere beside her only to be shot down by a well-aimed arrow. The Uruk-Hai on guard turned towards her, his blade drawn. Evidently he planned on fulfilling both urges.

"You don't wanna do that!" she gasped at the advancing Uruk, barely finding enough breath to make the comment. "I'm supposed to be taken back alive!"

"There's no leader _to_ take you back," the massive creature roared. He raised his gigantic sword and swung at Leigh's head. She ducked successfully and barely missed the blade. The Uruk roared his frustration and gabbed her throat, forcing her head against the tree. "No more tricks!" it bellowed, lifting the broadsword for the final, end all blow. Leigh screamed. (A/N: you have no idea how close I came to ending this chapter here!)

With a painful shriek, her attacker toppled over backwards. Leigh stared in horrified shock, not quite believing that she wasn't dead. A heroic figure loomed out of the darkness ahead of her, but the Uruk was struggling back up to its feet. It was gonna kill her! Leigh screamed again in desperation, trying to break the bonds holding her fast to the tree, but meeting with no success, except in the area of earning more rope burns. The blade swung down towards her in a last attempt to carry out the mission and Leigh knew she was about to die.

Suddenly, there was another blade in front of her, blocking the fatal blow. Leigh gasped, not at all sure what to believe. Was she dead or alive? Was this some dream or nightmare her mind had fled to in an effort to escape the horrors of the awful reality around her? No, it was real. Her defender shoved away the vile blade that sought her life and plunged the rescuing blade through the mountainous Uruk's chest, ending the fight once and for all.

A tall, armored man was standing in front of Leigh. She tried to raise her head to look at him, but, after the terror she had just went through, her body passed its limit on how much it could consciously take, and she slumped down into darkness.

A/N: Hello again! Ok, some stuff to share. After this I will be follow each of the girls' trips, but some will get more time than others. I am not playing favorites, there's just more story for some of the parts than others, so I have more to work with. Jaden probably won't get as much time as the other two because not as much happens on her trip. We all clear? Ok then! Hello, Jules! Jules is my friend, in case you didn't figure that out. Welcome!


	16. Hearts, Lords, and Friends

Disclaimer: I am too young to have written Lord of the Rings, nowhere near rich enough to buy the rights, and am merely a fan. Thus, I do not own Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Hello again! I hope this chapter is interesting and gets some thoughts spinning. The next update will probably be focused on Jaden, but I make no garuntees. Enjoy!

Horses, Lords, and Friends

The night was growing cold, like the ice slithering into Maylin's heart. She missed her friends. Thereshe was, all alone in her heart as she surveyed the vast stretches of Rohan before her. Was Leigh still alive? Did she know her foolishness had indeed saved the life of the man she seemed to hold in such high esteem (she couldn't bring herself to call it love)? Maylin's courage failed her, and a lonesome tear trickled down her face in the cool moonlight of the plains.

"My lady Maylin," Legolas said quietly, stepping up beside her. "What is the matter? Are you well?"

"Yes and no," Maylin replied shakily, trying to keep from crying in the presence of the Elven prince. "I suppose I'm fine physically, but my heart is quite a different matter."

"You fear for your friends."

"Yes," Maylin's voice quivered.

"Then know this, my lady," Legolas said soothingly. "Never before have I met young people as valiant or courageous as you and your friends. One has stayed under the power of the Elves to heal from a wound he took without cry in the Mines of Moria, where few would even dream of going. Another has willingly put her life in the path of danger to save a man close to her heart. Yet another has gone with the Ringbearer to save this world, and she knows well I'm sure what terrors she shall face on such a quest. And then you..." the prince paused. "You think of your friends before yourself, you run without tiring to rescue one, while trusting another enough to leave your own fate as well as ours in her hands. I do not know what you may call such acts where you are from, but here we call them nobility, honor, and courage. All of these traits many strive after their entire lives without gaining, but in your short years you have learned the essence of them, and that is something to be regarded with respect and honor, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord," Maylin smiled slightly. "Why does it seem the Elves are never short on words in times of darkness and danger?"

"We have quite a long time to think such things up, my lady Maylin," Legolas smiled.

"You have put them to good use then," Maylin replied. "Again, I thank you." Then she turned and lied down on the soft grass, hoping to find some form of rest from her thoughts.

"And you are most welcome... Maylin," Legolas breathed.

Eomer took a precious moment to simply stare at the young woman before him. The moonlight glimmered in her hair and echoed the paleness of her skin. In that moment he thought she was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Surely she was a vision of one of the fair maidens of old? But then, how would the orcs have captured her? Swiftly, he sliced away the bonds that held her to the tree she had been bound to. Her limp body fell into his arms and for a moment he feared that she had perished, but, no, there was a pulse, weak, but steady. As gently as he could, he lifted her and carried her to one of the fires his men had made.

In the light of the fire, he could see clearly the beaten and exhausted girl that the Uruks had taken prisoner. The side of her head was coated in blood, the cuts of a whip traced her legs and her back, small cuts, bruises and scratches adorned the rest of her, and her lip was bleeding where someone had hit her. Eomer frowned for a moment at her clothing, it appeared to be Elvish, but the young woman in his arms was clearly not.

"My Lord Eomer!" one of his men called as he walked up. "The orcs have all been slain, and we are preparing to burn the bodies, what are your orders?"

"At the moment," Eomer replied, "I need water to clean this woman's wounds, after that we shall leave this place." The man took a second to stare at the girl lying in his captain's arms. She was obviously not from Rohan. Eomer caught him looking and explained, "The orcs seem to have taken her prisoner, from where I know not. She has several injuries, and I would like to do what I can for her before we ride."

"Aye, my Lord," the man bowed and hurried off.

Eomer returned his attention to the young captive. How had one so young come to be taken by the orcs? What possible purpose could she serve?

He pulled his gloves off and gingerly wiped at the blood staining the side of her head. She moaned in her sleep and he paused.

"Maylin... Boromir..." she moaned, clearly only half-conscious.

"Rest," Eomer shushed her quietly.

"Where... am I?"

"Safe," he reassured her. "Now rest, my lady."

"I can't... Merry and Pippin... where are they?" she asked with her eyes still closed.

"Truly, I know not," Eomer replied as he continued again with the cloth.

"They have to live... they have to..." she couldn't quite finish the sentence.

"There is naught you can do for the moment but rest," he told her.

"Can't... sleep... afraid. Boromir!" the girl cried. "Let the others be alive... oh please let them be alive..."

"Go to sleep," the horselord whispered gently. "Be not afraid, I shall guard you this night. Fear no evil, you are well protected."

Taking a water skin from one of his men, Eomer slowly gave the former captive a steady drink. From the looks of the cracked skin of her lips, it had been long since her captors had thought to show such consideration. She swallowed it as quickly as he gave it to her, obviously parched from thirst. How many days had it been since she had last had a drink of decent water, or water of any kind?

Then she lapsed back into an uneasy sleep, often moaning out names that Eomer did not know. He dared not treat all of her injuries to uphold her modesty, but he did all he could for the cuts on her face and the wound on the side of her head. Normally, her hair might have been dark gold, but under the current circumstances, it was a mess of red and crusty brown from the blood she had lost. At least her breathing had eased, she drew in slow, steady breaths now instead of the desperate, rapid, shaky breaths she had at first. The night air was chill, and he wished that he had a cloak to throw over her still form to help her keep warm.

He silently cursed the orcs that had done such a thing to one so young, the atrocities they committed against the fighting men of Rohan and Gondor were bad enough with out kidnaping helpless young women. Isengard would pay for such cruelty.

The men around him threw half teasing, half concerned looks toward their leader and the young woman he was caring for. Her injuries were not grievous, but head wounds could be tricky, often many victims died from such wounds alone or were mad for the rest of their days. Hopefully, that would not be the case with this poor girl, probably stolen from her family or convoy without warning and brutally beaten by savage orcs. It was a wonder that she had retained her sanity through such an ordeal alone, let alone the head wound.

The cloth made frequent trips between the water and girl's bloody head. Soon, the small amount of water Eomer had set aside for the purpose of cleaning the wound was a dark pink, and that concerned him. The bleeding seemed to sense the presence of a healer and stubbornly quit on its own, slightly easing Eomer's task. He gingerly parted her hair to get to the wound that had so matted her hair with blood. The gash wasn't too terribly awful, but days without tending hadn't done it any favors, not to mention the physical strain the young woman had most likely been under thanks to the orcs. His hands were swift and skillful from treating similar injuries doled out to his men over the years, and soon the wound was cleaned and mildly dressed.

"Tell the men to mount up," Eomer said to a nearby Rider.

As the Rider ran off to obey the order, Eomer carefully lifted his patient and walked over toward his strong war horse. The steady creature could easily carry the slight extra weight of the woman, and he had promised her that he would protect her that night, and he intended to keep that vow. He swung the girl onto the horse and leapt up behind her to keep her from falling off again. Carefully, he pulled one arm around her waist to steady her and lifted the reins with the other. He slid his spear through a loop on the saddle so that his hands could be free for the task at hand. Some nightmare caused his passenger to give a small cry in her sleep, and he leaned her back against his chest, whispering quiet reassurances in her ear as he urged his horse into a gallop.

The sun was beginning to creep over the horizon of endless grass as the runners continued their run after their friends when they saw the approaching Riders. Maylin was half excited about meeting the mighty Rohirim, and half anxious about the spears that were about to be pointed at her. Legolas seemed to sense her apprehension and stood by her side, as if to assure her that nothing could get past the strong and courageous Elf, Dwarf and Men she was traveling with. She gave him a quick, thankful glance.

Aragorn rose from the grass and called, "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"

Eomer wheeled his horse along with those of his men, then gently placed the form of the rescued captive on the horse of Eothain, wanting to keep her as far out of harm's way as he could under the current circumstances. She slid off quietly, not stirring from her sleep or objecting to the new motion, so he judged that as a good sign. Then the horselord rode forward to challenge the strangers in his home land.

There were a lot of spears, Maylin thought. She decided that she didn't like spears anymore... at least not when they were pointed at her. It was impossible to read the faces of the Men surrounding them, most wore helms that covered much of their faces, they pretty much all had beards, and their eyes reminded Maylin of river rocks: hard, smooth, and unreadable. But she would bite the bullet... she didn't have much of a choice.

"Who are you, and what business have you in the Riddermark?" a Man, Eomer, demanded.

"Give me your name, horse master," Gimli replied, "and I shall give ya mine." Maylin wished with all her heart that this bit could have gone more like the books, those spears were about to get a lot closer. Eomer leaped to the ground.

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," Eomer growled.

"You would die before your stroke fell," Legolas challenged, aiming an arrow at the Man's chest. Boromir also had his hand on his sword, though hardly anyone noticed, and Maylin once again berated her friend's choice in men. Aragorn swiftly shoved Legolas's arrow to the ground, away from the warrior.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn told their interrogator. "These are Lady Maylin, Boromir of Gondor, Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Mirkwood realm." Eomer still glared hostilely at the Elf who had threatened him. "We track a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain, they have taken three of our friends captive."

"Boromir I know, but you hunt orcs in the company of a woman?" Eomer asked.

"She is an Elf, my lord," Aragorn replied. "And one of the captives is her dear friend. She has better skill with the bow than many Men, and her heart is strong and unwavering. Yes, we travel with her."

"The Uruks are dead," Eomer told him, "we slaughtered them during the night."

"Was there a young woman and two Hobbits with them? Did you see lass and two Hobbits?" Gimli cried.

"The Hobbits would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn explained.

"There were no children," Eomer replied firmly.

"And the woman," Boromir asked quickly. "Was the woman there?"

Eomer didn't get a chance to respond, for Maylin spotted a familiar face in the crowd of Men around her and charged forward with a yell.

"_Leigh!_" she shouted.

A few of the Riders started to move to stop the stranger dashing into their midst, but Eomer waved them off. A small part of him felt reluctant to acknowledge the presence of the survivor to these strangers, but his heart told him it was the right thing to do, and they seemed to know her well and care for her.

Boromir stepped quickly after Maylin and swung the resting figure down from the massive warhorse she had been placed on to cradle her in his arms. The look on his face was filled with anxiety, worry, rejoicing, and a deep, loving care. Maylin realized what her friend had seen in this strong Man of the South and silently gave her consent.

"She is alive," Boromir murmured, moving a stray strand of hair from her face.

"But she is wounded," Maylin added, shooting a glance at Eomer, she slightly blamed him for taking his merry time rescuing her.

"These will heal," Aragorn stated as he crouched beside them. "You have done well to care for the head wound, lord Eomer."

"I only regret that I couldn't do more," Eomer confessed. "We were hurried, and I thought that my sister could provide better care in Edoras."

"Your thoughts are wise," Aragorn nodded.

"Isn't she coming with us!" Maylin demanded.

"No," Aragorn told her firmly. "Leigh may be alive, but she is not well... yet. She needs proper care for her wounds, and rest as well. We cannot provide her with either of those things, so , yes, she shall go with Lord Eomer to Edoras." Maylin cast him a doubting look and Aragorn spoke quietly to her, "Lord Eomer is a good, trustworthy Man. He will let no harm befall her, Maylin. I believe she is safe with him."

"Sure?"

"Would I be leaving her here with him and his men if I didn't?" Aragorn asked.

"No."

"She will be alright, my lady," Legolas told her reassuringly.

"Thank you, Legolas," Maylin smiled.

"My Lord Eomer," Boromir said, leading the horselord aside. "I know you to be a Man of good repute, and I would entrust lady Leigh to no one of lesser nobility. She is... very dear to me... please keep her safe."

"She spoke your name in her sleep," Eomer replied. "You are... close to her?"

"She saved my life," Boromir said fondly, looking over at the young woman Aragorn was now examining. "And she is... high in my thoughts."

"And so it would seem you are in hers," Eomer nodded. "I shall guard her well, and then place her in the care of my sister."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

Then the two Men returned to the others and Aragorn thanked Eomer deeply for the care he had given his traveling companion.

"My head hurts," a small voice announced from the ground.

"She's awake!" Maylin squealed, practically pouncing on her friend.

"Oof," Leigh grunted. "Nice to see you too. Where are we?"

"Oh," Maylin cried, "I don't know whether to hit you or hug you!"

"Well please don't go with the first option," Leigh moaned. "I've had enough of that in the last few days."

"I'm so glad you're alive!"

"Would _someone_ please answer my question since Maylin here obviously won't?"

"You gave us quite a fright, lass," Gimli rumbled from beside her. "The horse Men found you and got you away from those creatures. Lord Eomer is going to take you with him to Edoras. You got yourself pretty well beat up, lassie."

"Oh, they're just a few scratches," Leigh snorted.

"Those are the deepest 'scratches' I've ever seen," Maylin retorted.

"Where's Boromir!" Leigh asked suddenly, sitting up far too quickly for someone who just woke up from an extremely deep sleep. "Oh..." she started to fall backwards.

A strong pair of arms caught her in their tight embrace and Leigh looked up into the eyes of the Man she had saved. Boromir smiled kindly, lovingly, down at her, and Leigh smiled warmly back up at him. She placed a hand on the side of his face and said softly, "I'm glad I didn't just go through all that for nothing. I'm glad you're alright."

"As am I," a shadow crossed Boromir's face. "You shouldn't have done it though..."

"It was my choice, Boromir, and I don't regret it," she grinned, "so you'll just have to live with it."

"As long as you are here to share the bearing, my lady," he laughed. Then he looked up and beckoned Eomer over to join the circle. "Lord Eomer, this is lady Leigh, the young woman you rescued."

"It is an honor, my lady," Eomer bowed.

"Thank, my Lord," Leigh replied.

"I would do it again without hesitation," Eomer told her.

"You are to go with the Lord and his men to Edoras," Boromir informed Leigh. "You will be better cared for there."

"But I want to stay with you and my friends..." Leigh frowned. "Where's Jaden!"

"She took... another road," Maylin told her quietly.

"She did what! And you say _I_'m crazy."

"We had no idea," Maylin sighed. "But we trust her so..."

"Hopefully she knows what she'd doing," Leigh finished.

"We must continue," Aragorn said as he walked up with three horses.

"What? No 'hello'?" Leigh whined. "I feel loved."

"Hello, lady Leigh," Aragorn laughed. "I am sorry that we have to leave you again so soon after our reunion, but there are other members of our party to be searched for..."

"Of course," Leigh nodded from the ground. "I only apologize for holding you up from your search."

"There is no need to apologize," Aragorn told her warmly. "One third of our friends have been restored to us."

Boromir lifted Leigh off of the ground, and gently placed her in front of Eomer on his steed. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from her face as he turned to mount his own horse and ride with his companions after Merry and Pippin.

Maylin felt sorry that another of the brave Rohirim had fallen in the fight than had in the books. But then again, it would make riding arrangements a bit easier. Legolas and gimli rode together, Boromir rode alone with his thoughts, and Maylin rode with Aragorn. With luck, things had worked out properly with the Hobbits, if they hadn't, they were in trouble... deep trouble.

A/N: Ah! You made it through! Very good! Did you like? Hate? Couldn't care less? Tell me in your wonderful review! ;)


	17. Mazes of the Mind

Disclaimer: Wouldn't it be a surprise if I said I owned Lord of the Rings? Well, I don't so live with it.

A/N: Here is the long awaited update! And it stinks, royally! At least you get to see Jay again. I do apologize for this one taking so blasted long, and I have no good excuses either, so sorry. I shall do my best to work on this more than I have been recently, and I apologize that this bit is so short and pointless... just hold out for the angst! It's coming soon (some's already begun, and that one gets worse!) evil grin!

Mazes of the Mind

The sharp rocks of Emyn Muil threw up harsh objections to the three travelers trying to clamber through it. Jaden was deeply thankful for the mere fact that she had shoes to wear in such rough terrain, her feet would have been a rather bloody mess if she'd tried to go barefoot like she and her friends had joked about before they had left on their quest at all.

She missed them, Leigh, Maylin and Jack. Leigh was probably off trying to be heroic and risking her neck for a worthy cause that very moment, Maylin was right by her side, completely oblivious to the Elf lord near her that held her in a light higher than mere friendship... and Jack was kicking his heals up for a nap after practicing on his new harp. Their own little 'Fellowship' had been shattered by fate. It seemed whenever a group of people got along well in this world, something always happened to separate them. She hoped they were alright, it felt so weird being so far away from them, usually the only divider was so much air or the side of a tent. Now, they might be dead for all she knew.

With a physical jerk of her head, Jaden turned her thoughts back to the mission at hand. Below them stretched a steep cliff, and there wasn't any obvious way to get down. Of course, she knew what they had to do, but, as always, she couldn't spill the beans. Few times in her life had she ever wanted to tell someone a secret than at that moment.

'Hey, guys,' she wanted to say, 'we don't have to keep walking today, really. Pretty soon Smeagol's gonna pop up and he'll lead us there!' But she didn't, she regretted it, but she didn't.

As Sam tied the rope, she peered cautiously over the edge of the abrupt cliff face. It was an awfully long way down... at least she thought it was. The fog had decided to keep its prisoners in suspense for the rest of their time in its grasp. Oh, after this they wouldn't see anywhere near as many rocks! The only rocks though she was really worried about at the moment, though, were the ones at the bottom of the precipice she was currently standing on. It was really a good thing Leigh wasn't there, though, she hated heights. Every time they went on a roller coaster together, she kept her eyes on the top of the hill the whole way up. She had always told Jaden that the climb at the beginning was the worst part, after that, it was hard to tell up from down, let alone how _far_ down was.

Jaden went down second, after Frodo, being sure to check the rope's knot discreetly before slipping over the dreaded edge. Even though the common belief was that the rope came down by magic when Sam called, she had no intention of finding out that it was the knot after all the hard way. Sam's knots were as could as his word; perfectly executed as well or probably better than any boy scout. The only question was, would they hold someone much larger than a Hobbit? With a deep breath, she leaned all of her weight back on the rope.

The slim, Elven line held and Jade breathed a sigh of relief. It probably wouldn't have gone too well if she had fallen to her death along with the others' only way down... She wondered whether Sam would have cried more for her or for the rope.

The climb itself was fine, she'd climbed many a rock wall in her days of summer camp and random crazy moments with friends, so she knew generally how to handle herself. The only thing she really regretted was not being able to just repel down, of course, their gear wouldn't have allowed for that, even if her hands would've. That was another thing, the rope was so smooth that it didn't bother her palms like normal rope would've, but it wasn't slick either, so she could maintain her grasp. Jaden thought up a quick thanks for Galadriel should she ever see her again to thank her for the marvelous talent of her people in rope making.

"Ninnyhammers! Noodles!" Sam cried. "My beautiful rope's stuck up there now! And a nice little stair it makes for that Gollum that's slinking after us." Jaden refrained from correcting Sam and saying that Gollum was not the creature's name, but Smeagol was, and also refrained from telling him that whether or not there was a bit of rope hanging there would hardly make a difference when Smeagol came a'comin'.

"Well unless you can think of a way to climb back up, untie it, and lower yourself back down," Jaden told him, "there's not much for it, I'm afraid it's stuck."

Then Sam went into a cute, Hobbit-ish spiel about how Lady Galadriel herself might have made it and it was so beautiful, etc. When the rope came tumbling down and Sam went tumbling backwards, Jaden had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the spectacle the sprawled, shocked Hobbit made.

"Who tied the rope?" Frodo laughed. "A good thing it held as long as it did! And to think I trusted my weight on it!"

"He tied it just fine, Frodo," Jaden defended her friend. "Trust me, I checked before I went down."

"See?" Sam asked in an injured tone.

"Then it must have frayed on a rock.."

"It didn't either!" Sam announced, producing the perfectly sound end of the rope.

"Well then it must have been the knot," Frodo snickered.

"I bet it's a magic rope," Sam said in wonder. "It came when I called, just when I called."

"Indeed it did, Sam," Jaden smiled. Frodo quirked an eyebrow at her and she gave him a sneaky, knowing look.

"How beautiful the stars are!" Frodo exclaimed, honestly appreciating them, and not just trying to change the topic. "And the moon!"

"They look almost Elvish somehow," Sam agreed. Jaden smirked, Sam was developing a fascination with Elves.

"Yes they do," Jaden nodded.

She suddenly drifted back to thoughts of all she had seen in Middle Earth on all of her adventures so far. It seemed that just about everything good fell back to the Elves and their kingdoms and havens. Beauty made its home there, in the surroundings and in the hearts of the Elves themselves. A part of her longed to see the homes of Men, which she had seen so little of. Her friends were off enjoying themselves no doubt in Rohan at that very moment. Even though she was awed beyond words by the power and majesty of the Elves, she had a deep yearning to see the human cultures that flourished also in those lands. It was like only seeing the frame around a picture, or just the base layer of paint on a masterpiece... there was so much more to it.

Night fell quickly, and Jade wished for a sight of the sun and its radiant heat. The winds picked up a little, and Jaden could have sworn she heard harsh, throaty whispers being carried on it. But neither Frodo nor Sam seemed to hear it so... chances were she was just imagining things. On the other hand, it could be Smeagol, this was the night he was due to appear.

Frodo popped up off the ground and began to pace, then he froze, like he saw something. Jaden knew what it was: Gollum coming head first down the sheer stone wall.

"Ach, sss! Cautious, my precious! We mustn't risssk our necks, must we precious?"

Jaden shuddered for a moment. That voice, that form, that awful double talk gave her shivers. 'Oh great!' she thought to herself. 'You've been around him for a grand four seconds and you're already grossed out!'

Then the spider-like thing fell from the cliff in an attempt to turn around and Sam sprang forward and tried to pin the startled being while it was unprepared. Smeagol recovered in a heartbeat and in the blink of an eye Sam was suddenly restrained by wiry limbs and sharp teeth were biting into his shoulder. Frodo didn't wait for another moment, but pounced forward, tucking Sting neatly beneath Smeagol's chin.

"Let go, Gollum!" the ringbearer commanded. "This is Sting. You have seen it before once upon a time. Let go or you'll feel it this time. I'll cut your throat!"

Smeagol complied and wilted into a sniveling heap that whimpered and moaned for pity and mercy. Jade made a mental note to watch her step.

"Don't hurt us! They weren't hurt us, precious, will they, nice little Hobbitses? We didn't mean no harm did we precious? And we're so lonely, _gollum_. We'll be nice to them if they be nice to us, won't we, yes, yes."

"Well what's to be done with him?" Sam asked, rubbing his shoulder. "I say tie it up so it can't come sneaking up on us anymore."

"That would kill us, kill us. Tie us up and leave us in the cold hard lands, _gollum, gollum_," Smeagol sobbed.

"If we killed him we'd have to kill him outright," Frodo told Sam. "But we can't do that, not as things are. Poor wretch! He hasn't done us any harm."

"Oh hasn't he?" Sam asked, glaring down at the creature. "He means to I'll warant."

"No doubt," Frodo agreed. "But what he means to do is another matter." Then Frodo stood in deep thought for a moment, remembering his conversation with Gandalf all those ages and miles ago. Jaden and Sam kept wary eyes on Gollum, as of yet, Jaden wasn't even sure he had noticed her there.

"Now that I see him," Frodo said aloud. "I do pity him."

"Hobbitses won't kill us, nice Hobbitses," Gollum whimpered.

"No, we won't kill you," Frodo concurred. "But we won't let you go either. You must lead us to Mordor."

"Ach! Ssss!" Gollum hissed, covering his ears. "Yes. Yess. No!"

"That's a yes," Jaden informed Frodo. Smeagol looked up at her.

"What's this precious, what's this new thing?" Gollum asked himself. "A she-man! Men are big, and tie up poor Gollum, poor, poor Gollum!"

"I am not going to tie you up," Jaden sighed. This was going to be a long, LONG trip.

Maylin looked up at the dark trees that loomed in dark menace above her head. The feeling was far past disturbing, it was like they were all breathing down her neck, waiting for a chance to lift up their roots and squish her. Everywhere around her, leaves rattled in warning, trunks groaned in deep, earthy anger, and there was a general feeling of malice seeping through the air. Even though she knew what was going on, she still felt edgy and unsure in this dark, dank place.

Not long before, the horses had run away with the appearance of the strange old man. Her gut feeling had been to just drop everything and run off back toward the light outside. Above them, the stars had been veiled by heavy boughs laden with dark, clattering leaves, and the moon's bright beams were completely blocked from view in the threatening forest. So went the rest of the night. The only relief from the ever present fear of the unknown forest was when the tree bent over their fire like it was warming itself above the leaping little flames. Maylin had always found it odd that a tree had been willing to come closer to a fire in any form.

The tragedy of the entwives was enough to make anyone, or anything, deep and dismal for many turning centuries. The trees seemed to still be in a lonesome mourning for the loss of the entwives, a mourning that had slowly turned to malice without the correction and guidance of the ents. This forest had survived the steady, unrelenting pounding of time, under its wavy green roof, life and death blended and melded. It seemed that with the cease of new ents, there had been a ceasing in all of the forest's inhabitants. No new saplings could Maylin see about her, even in the growing light of the day. The all-piercing rays of the stubborn sun fought their way to the forest floor where they explored the decay of death and stagnant hate. This forest was a living testimony to the power of anger and hate, and what they could do to a place that was once so beautiful.

"Look!" Legolas cried suddenly.

"Look at what?" Gimli asked.

"There in the trees."

"Where? I have not Elf eyes."

"Hush! Speak more softly! Look!" Legolas pointed.

There was an old man dodging from tree to behind them, from the place they had just came from. Maylin recognized it as the same man who had been near their fire when the horses bolted.

"Well met indeed, my friends," the man said as he came near. "I wish to speak to you."

"Shoot him now, Legolas!" Gimli urged.

"Did I not say that I wished to speak with you?" the man asked, causing Legolas to drop his bow and knocked arrow. Legolas moved to place Maylin behind him.

A/N: Hey! You made it! Good for you! Now please review... those things encourage me to actually write more so... review away!


	18. A Brilliant Light

Disclaimer: Does anyone here own LOTR? Looks around, there are no raised hands Well I didn't raise mine so... guess I don't!

A/N: I have been told by my friend, coughElsircough, that I should not apologize so much at the beginning of these chapters. So, I shall concur with her request and shut up now so you can read.

A Brilliant Light

Maylin felt a happy fuzzy feeling from Legolas's motion to protect her, she had never had such good friends before in her life... not counting the other three of the Four.

Nonetheless, she stepped around her Elvish protector towards the stranger who had struck the warriors around her with magic. All of them gave a throaty cry of protest and warning, but she was grinning and the man before her was chuckling so that she wasn't paying attention to much else. He happily let Maylin stand beside him, grinning like an idiot again to the sharp disagreements of her companions.

"He's bewitched her!" Gimli roared, probably trying desperately to fight the spell the grey-clad stranger had laid on him.

"Can I tell them?" Maylin whispered to the old man. He smiled but shook his head.

"This is a thing that I alone wish to enjoy," he informed her. "But thank you for your offer." Then he turned to the four warriors and addressed them.

"What might two Men, two Elves, and a Dwarf, all in Elvish garb, be doing in the forest of Fangorn? Undoubtedly there is a story worth the hearing here. Such things are not often seen here."

"You speak as one who knows Fangorn well," Aragorn replied cautiously, Maylin didn't blame him, in his shoes she'd be a little edgy too.

"Not very well," the man replied. "But it doesn't take all that much study to know when things as strange as these are out of place in a forest such as this."

"Might we know your name?" Aragorn asked. "The morning passes, and we are on an errand that will not wait."

"My name!" the old man cried. "Have you not guessed it already? But come now, I wish to hear of your tale."

There was a stony silence from the four fighters in response.

"Very well then, I already know," the stranger told them. "You are tracking two young Hobbits who were taken captive by a band of Uruk-Hai, who also took a young woman, who has now been restored to you.

"Your two young friends climbed here earlier today. They met someone they did not expect, does that comfort you?"

"Enough of this," Aragorn cried. "Show yourself!"

The dull grey cloak fell back onto the crumbling soil of rotting leaves like a bud falling away from the flower as it sprung into bloom. A brilliant light shown from the recently decrepit figure with a fierce glory that inspired all thoughts of right, glory and awe. Maylin felt the immense power flood her very soul, and she drifted down to her knees in humility before the beaming wizard before her. The others of her party seemed to feel the same emotions that had overcome her and also fell to their knees in awe, some with cries of joy and surprise.

Here Gandalf stood before them, but it was not the same wise old man that had guided them through snow, rocks and caves. Now he had sprung free from the grey cloak he had born before and glimmered in pure white glory like the midday sun on the virgin snow of the mountains. He was now not just a wizard, but was the hope of the world, the captain and councilor for the peoples of Middle Earth in the fight ahead. In the past, much darkness had been seen from both the foul creations of Morgoth as well as those of his captain Sauron, and opposing such shadow were the far greater lights of the Elves and Men and Dwarves that lived and loved their world that surrounded them. Now with this massive threat screaming from Mordor, a magnificent light had been given unto the world as a guide.

Gandalf the White had come.

Leigh had never been much of a horse woman, generally attempts to master a horse resulted in being flung through the air or sliding to the ground, either option resulting in a rather sore backside. At least the horse she was on didn't bite. She had once gone on a trail ride with a nasty, biting devil of a horse that she had evidently wronged in a past life or something.

The steady beats of the horse she was presently on eased her mind towards sleep. It felt like she could sleep for a year and still be tired. She prayed that wasn't the case, she'd need to be ready and fully awake for the events that were about to surround her. Uruk-Hai and half-asleep girls did NOT mix well. Then she didn't think of anything, because she finally fell asleep again. She dreamed happy dreams of her hanging out with her friends in a small restaurant in a local shopping center, and also dreams of a tall, strong man lifting her and carrying her away to his kingdom in Gondor...

Eomer rode on into the growing dark with his young guest before him. The sun was dipping down to its rest around them in the bright red of the evening light. The fierce beams glanced off of his men's armor and sparkled in the droplets of sweat beading the horses' flanks. With a sharp raising of his arm, Eomer signaled his men to stop for the night and rest their mounts, the beings that gave Rohan its strength.

In one swift movement, Eomer swung off his steed with the sleeping Leigh still in his arms. Around him, other men were also dismounting and seeing to their horses and such. Leaving his horse in the care of one of the younger men, Eomer walked towards the middle of the encampment, where she'd be safest. He unrolled a blanket for her and laid her gently on the ground to sleep.

For a few moments he just stared at her, like he had when he had first seen her tied to the tree. At the moment her eyes were closed in a quiet slumber and her eyelashes were resting on her cheekbones. Long waves of rich, golden hair flowed down over her shoulders and trailed into her face. Perhaps a trace of the blood of the Rohirim coursed through her veins, for she certainly looked like one of the nobles of his country. She was so beautiful... Boromir of Gondor was a lucky man indeed.

Leigh stirred, rolled over, and looked up at the horse lord.

"I fell asleep again didn't I?" she asked.

"Indeed you did, my lady," he replied formally. "I took the liberty of moving you to the ground."

"Thank you, my lord," Leigh smiled. "I do not wish to be a burden to you and your men..."

"You are not," Eomer said swiftly. "I only wish we could do more for you."

"As things stand you have saved my life, tended my head wound, and are taking me with you to Edoras, I think that is more than could ever be asked for."

"It is merely what any true Rider of Rohan would do, my lady," Eomer informed her, then he bowed and walked away swiftly to check on his men.

Maylin rode in front of Gandalf on Shadowfax, feeling very grateful that she could ride with Gandalf on the great Shadowfax, instead of hanging on for dear life on one of the other 'normal' horses. Aragorn was a fine rider, and so was she for that matter, but they were riding very fast very far, and she didn't trust herself to not fall asleep.

Soon they would reach Edoras! This would be her first view of the realms of Men, and she was even more eager to see her friend again. The four had been separated for far too long, and she desperately missed the conversation of other people who spoke, thought and acted like she did. The nearest such person was Leigh, and she was in Edoras.

When Gandalf called a halt for the night Maylin felt tempted to kick Shadowfax into a gallop again anyway to get a few more miles in. But she didn't and they came to a halt for a few hours' rest. At first, she thought she might just flop over on the ground and declare it a bed, but then she spotted Boromir standing a short distance away, gazing off towards Edoras. Maylin walked slowly over to him, not quite sure what, if anything, to do or say.

"Do you miss her?" Maylin asked quietly. Boromir turned his head toward her and gave a sad smile.

"That is perhaps an inadequate definition of my feelings at the moment," Boromir laughed mirthlessly.

"I think I can sympathize," Maylin nodded. "Just when we find her again, and know that she's alive and safe, we have to part from her again. It isn't that I don't trust the Riders it's just..."

"You trust yourself more."

"Precisely," Maylin sighed. "But we will be with her again soon."

"Yes," Boromir agreed. "I owe her my life, and I think she has taken my heart along with it."

"I guessed that," Maylin laughed. Boromir grinned at her.

"That obvious is it?"

"Yeah." There was a mutual pause as they both looked out in the general direction of Edoras, then Maylin spoke up again.

"There's a saying where I come from," she mused thoughtfully. "They say you never really realize how much something means to you until you lose it..."

"It is very true," Boromir sighed. "Even though I _know_ I shall see her again... I just wish she was here with us now, where we could be certain that she was safe."

"What are you going to say to her when you meet again?"

"I haven't planned it," Boromir replied, "but I intend to return something to her that she lost..."

"I'm sure she will be very thankful, Boromir," Maylin smiled.

"It is the very least I can do."

Unknown to Maylin, there was another observer of their conversation nearby.

Legolas's heart strings pulled in silent agony as he watched her. It was clear that she had no feelings for Lord Boromir, but there was another who seemed to have claimed her... Haldir. His heart longed for her to notice him, to realize what she meant to him. But he knew that she was... distracted, and would most likely never know what he truly felt for her. Unless of course, he could work up the nerve to speak to her on that subject.

To anyone who had never met her before, it was still an easy guess that she was an Elf, not only her appearance, but her grace and general love of the world around her testified to this fact. She was so lovely, standing there in the moonlight, so near, yet so far away, impossibly far away.

The night was cold, long, and a true pain in the eyes of one rather soggy teenager. She hadn't said a single word to anyone since Gollum's clear statement of dislike toward her, this had encouraged Sam to be even more violently minded toward the scrawny fiend, but Frodo had once again talked him out of it.

Frodo nudged Jaden beside him, and she ducked her head slowly and pretended to fall asleep against the cold hard rock. As if.

Wasting no time, Gollum leaped forward in a desperate attempt to get away while his captors nodded off. He really wasn't very bright, Jaden thought to herself. Sam nailed him before he had made three leaps, and Frodo suggested that they should use the oh-so-wonderful Elven rope.

Gollum screamed in agony as Sam tied the rope around his ankle, and Jaden felt all the awful and confounded pity she had felt for the poor creature she had been overcome by when reading the books. Blast! If she let her guard down, Gollum could get away with anything, and besides, only she knew how the story was supposed to go, who would keep the Hobbits safe if she let herself wallow in pity for the twisted being that had just tried to strangle them in their sleep?

"What's the matter with you?" Frodo asked, also getting a little ticked with Gollum's antics. "When you try to run away there is no choice but to tie you, but we don't wish to harm you."

"It hurts us, it hurts us," the slithering thing hissed through his teeth. "Nasty Elves twisted it, nasty Hobbitses meet with cruel Elves with bright eyes. Take it off us! It hurts us."

"No, I will not take it off you," Frodo told the unruly captive forcefully. "Unless... not unless there is any promise you can make that I can trust."

"We will swears to what he wants yes, yesssss," Gollum hissed. "It hurts us."

"Swear?" Frodo asked.

"Smeagol," the new personality announced with suddenly brighter eyes. "Smeagol will swear on the Precious."

"It will hold you to your word," Frodo told the newcomer, with a little anger Jaden noticed. "But it is more treacherous than you are. It may twist your words. Beware!"

"On the Precious, on the Precious," Smeagol cowered.

"And what would you swear?"

"To be very very good," Smeagol said nodding his head rapidly. Then he grew suddenly somber. "And to never let Him have it."

"Now swear!"

"We promise, yes I promise!" Smeagol cried. "I will serve the master of the Precious. Good master, good Smeagol, _gollum gollum_!" Then he fell in a heap, crying and biting at his ankle.

"Take off the rope, Sam," Frodo ordered.

But Jaden had already moved forward, as soon as Smeagol had taken his oath. Her fingers deftly undid the knot Sam had put in place to prevent Gollum's escape and she quickly pulled the rope free of the skinny ankle. Smeagol just stared at her.

"What's it doing?" he asked himself out loud. " What trick does it play on us?"

"There is no trick, Smeagol," Jaden told him gently. "I felt sorry for you, and I helped you. That's all there is to it, no tricks. This time _I_ swear." Frodo stared for a moment and then nodded in approval of the action. Sam just stared.

"And by the way," Jaden said as she stood up again, feeling very weird for being so tall compared to the others, "my name is not 'it', 'she-man' or anything else like that. My name is Jaden, on occasion some of my friends call me Jay. If you want to discuss me with yourself, then please stop calling me '_it_'. Ok?"

"Smeagol will, Smeagol will call her 'Jaden'," Smeagol nodded, probably a little bit in shock at the moment.

"Thank you, Smeagol," Jaden smiled. "Now, how do we get where we're going?"

A/N: Well, did you like it? It is officially a royal pain to hop around from group to group! (Can't wait for the two gilrs to get back together! Yes that's a spoiler) Reviews!


	19. Where Once were Friends

Disclaimer: Hear ye, hear ye! Narnian Sprite has not, does not, and will not own the Lord of the Rings!

A/N: Here is some payback for your awful long waits between chapters recently. This is the result of many hours on the computer this afternoon, so be grateful and REVIEW! Thank you, that's all until the end, see ya there!

Where Once were Friends

The golden thatch of Edoras beamed in the bright light of the Rohirim day before them. From her perch in front of Gandalf, Maylin felt sure she could see flickers of green banners being whipped about in the fierce wind that echoed the strength and courage of the people in whose land it blew. The city was as beautiful as she had always believed it would be. A strange stirring fluttered around in her chest as she gazed on ahead of them, she felt like she could take on a hundred Uruk-Hai. The feelings of the Rohirim seemed to be contagious.

Gandalf led the way to the gates, taking his place as the leader of their rather odd troop. This meant Maylin was also in the lead, and part of her had become a little hesitant around blonde Men with big spears... bad things could happen.

It took what seemed an eternity for the blasted guard to actually go and SEE what his master had to say on the matter, as opposed to standing up there like a high and mighty twit with a sharp object. When he returned, he kept the all-important-guard persona up, and Maylin felt a slight urge to smack him. She wanted to see Leigh, right then, and this nit was keeping her from going. Gandalf seemed to sense her frustration and laid a hand on her shoulder after they had dismounted to follow their guide to the Hall.

"Be at peace, Maylin," Gandalf told her quietly. "You will be reunited with Leigh soon enough."

"I know," Maylin pouted.

"How foolish of me," the old wizard smirked, "I forgot that you always know what's going to happen."

There were few people living in the city it seemed, all around them though the few remaining residents peeked through windows or around horses to see the strangers who had entered their home. Edoras certainly looked dirtier than any other place they had yet visited. Bree was probably far dirtier though. At least the horses seemed friendly enough, the great beasts often raised their heads and snorted a salute as they passed by, gazing at them with dark, friendly eyes surrounded by a thick fringe of lashes. Aragorn then dropped back a pace and whispered to Maylin.

"I know you are anxious to see Leigh, so are the rest of us," he informed her. "But please don't do anything rash or hasty to get away to see her. This isn't Lothlorien, they cannot read your mind, and know nothing of your knowledge, so I request that you simply hold your tongue as much as possible in the upcoming discussion."

"I'm not an idiot," Maylin sighed. "I'll shut up. I'll shut up so well I won't even squeak unless spoken to."

"I must return now to the gate," their wonderful guide informed them. "Farewell! And may the Lord of the Mark by gracious to you!" Then he ran off again to his duty at the all-important gate. Maylin reminded herself that she was being incredibly unfair, but she was so anxious and generally antsy that she ignored that thought.

Gandalf boldly lead the way up the steps with Aragorn close behind him, followed by Maylin, then Gimli and lastly Legolas, almost acting like a rear guard.

"Hail, comers from afar!" the new batch of guards saluted them. Why did there have to be so much thrice blasted protocol?

"I am the Doorward of Theoden," the leader announced, stepping forward to address them. "Hama is my name. Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter."

Legolas stepped forward first, handing him _all_ of his many weapons.

"These were given to me by the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood of Lothlorien," he said. "Keep them well."

"No man will touch them, I promise you," Hama assured him hastily, placing the articles aside even faster.

Aragorn hesitated to part with his sword, and Maylin didn't blame him in the least, she would be a little reluctant to part with a weapon like that too. For that matter, she was a little skittish about handing over her own assorted weaponry. Then Gandalf prevented a fight with the Doorwarden by offering up his own sword first, encouraging the others to do the same. Aragorn unbuckled it and set the ancient blade by the wall himself.

"Here I set it," he said. "But I command you not to touch it, nor permit any other to lay hand on it. Death shall come to any man that draws Elendil's sword save Elendil's heir."

Gimli, Boromir and Maylin offered up their weapons in similar, untrusting fashions, Maylin kept herself from grinning as she handed over her own.

"These were also given to me by the Lady Galadriel," she told the guard. "Guard them well."

"It shall be so, my lady," the poor, edgy man stated swiftly, getting the things away from himself as quickly as possible. Maylin could have sworn she caught Gandalf rolling his eyes in exasperation.

The inside of hall was dark and stagnant, similar to Fangorn actually in a way. At least in Fangorn, there had been ever growing and changing life in the trees, inside the shadow-ridden hall at Edoras, it was like a tomb had expanded itself to swallow up the realm of the living. If she hadn't have known better, Maylin would have been checking underfoot to make certain there were no bones that she might accidentally step on. Although a fire burned brightly in the center of the room, it seemed to cower back from the threatening darkness around it, unsure of what to do with its light and heat. All of this was undoubtedly the result of Saruman's poison through Grima Wormtongue. A moment later, Maylin began sweeping the room with her eyes for signs of Leigh hiding back among the pillars somewhere. But there was no sign of her, so Maylin hopefully assumed that she was asleep somewhere, receiving treatment for her multiple wounds inflicted by the Uruks.

"Hail, Theoden son of Thengel!" Gandalf called in greeting. "I have returned. The storm comes, and now all friends must gather together, lest each be singly destroyed."

"I greet you," the ancient-looking man, King Theoden, replied, "and maybe you look for a welcome. But truth to tell your welcome is doubtful here, Master Gandalf. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" then he lowered himself slowly back into his chair.

For a split second, Maylin locked eyes with Eowyn, who stood behind her lord and king... not to mention uncle. In her eyes there were shreds of a thousand sorrows that she had seen and experienced, each tatter hiding away the light that might have once been in her heart. Once upon a time, this girl had known what it was to laugh with joy at a jest, to jest herself, and to love life and all that it could be. Now she stood there, solemn, quiet and powerless as a statue, able only to watch the land and people she loved fall away into the shadows of Isengard and Mordor. Maylin felt a great pity for her. Then a pale, gnarled lump of a man spoke up in justification of his king.

"You speak justly, lord," he stated in slime coated syllables. "Why indeed should we welcome you, Master Stormcrow. _Lathspell_ I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say."

"The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late, Theoden king," Gandalf commented. "Has not the messenger from your gate reported the names of my companions? Seldom has any lord of Rohan received three such guests. Weapons they have laid at your doors that are worth many a mortal man, even the mightiest. Grey is their raiment, for the Elves clad them, and thus they have passed through the shadow of great perils to your hall."

"So it is true, as Eomer reported, that you are in league with the Sorceress of the Golden Wood?" Wormtongue asked, not really requiring an answer. "It is not to be wondered at: webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene."

Gimli moved forward, and so did Maylin, but Gandalf held them both back. Then suddenly he changed, throwing aside the grey cloak that had covered the pure white of his new garb.

"The wise speak only of what they know, Grima son of Galmod. A witless worm you have become. Therefore be silent and keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a serving-man till the lightning falls."

As Gandalf raised his staff, there was a sound like thunder roaring over head, and Maylin couldn't restrain the grin that slipped onto her face at Grima's panicked reaction as he realized the wizard still had his staff with him. Grima hissed something to Theoden that she couldn't quite hear, but evidently Gandalf could. His anger flared and it sounded like lightning had just struck the roof of the Golden Hall. Grima fell flat on his face.

"Now Theoden son of Thengel, will you harken to me?" Gandalf asked. "I bid you come out and look before your doors. Too long have you sat in shadows and trusted to twisted tales."

Theoden rose feebly from this chair, and Eowyn leapt forward to assist him, taking his arm. With ancient dignity, the king made his way towards the massive doors waiting at the opposite end of the hall. Maylin chanced a look at Grima, whose eyes were fixed on the king, half terror half malice.

"Open!" Gnadalf cried upon reaching the doors. "The Lord of the Mark comes forth!"

At a word from Gandalf and her king, Eowyn turned and left the two wise men at the door, looking out over the land that Theoden ruled, and had neglected for so many long years of torment.

As she passed, Maylin caught the look she sent to Aragorn, and she shuddered with the knowledge of all the pain that was to come due to that look.

Then the king sat down, as if burdened by some heavy thought, which he most likely was, and Maylin could hear a slight, quivering change in his voice. Why did it seem that all of Rohan harbored such sorrow?

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped a sword," Gandalf suggested. Theoden rose again and reached for his side, muttering under his breath.

"Where has Grina stowed it?" he growled.

"Take this, dear lord!" a man cried as he approached. It was Eomer, released from captivity. "It was ever at your service."

"How comes this?" Theoden demanded.

"It is my doing, lord," Hama said in a trembling voice. "I understood that Eomer was to be set free. Such joy was in my heart, perhaps I erred. I brought him his sword as he bade me."

"To lay at your feet, my lord," Eomer said.

"Will you not take the sword?' Gandalf prompted.

Theoden grasped the ornate handle, pulled it from his nephew's hands, and cried out a battle call. Maylin very nearly joined in it.

"_Westu Theoden hal!_" Eomer cried in response. "Never again shall it be said, Gandalf, that you come only with grief!"

"Take back your sword, Eomer sister-son!" Theoden proclaimed. "Go, Hama and seek my own sword! Grima has it in his keeping. Bring him to me also. Now, Gandalf, you said that you had counsel to give, if I would hear it. What is your council?"

"You yourself have already taken it," Gandalf replied. "To put your trust in Eomer rather than a man of crooked mind. To cast aside regret and fear. To do the deed at hand. We must first destroy the threat of Saruman, while we still have time."

"You council is good," Theoden replied. "Let all the my folk prepare! But you- my guests. You have ridden through the night and the morning wears away. You have had neither sleep nor food. A guest-house shall be prepared for you."

"Nay, lord," Aragorn replied. "There is no rest you for the weary. Rohan must ride forth today, and we shall ride with them. And I promised Eomer that my sword and his should be drawn together."

"Now indeed there is hope of victory!" Eomer exalted.

Then Hama came from inside, along with two other men bearing a terrified Grima.

But Maylin could control herself no longer.

"My lord," she said, trying to appear as normal as possible. Didn't work, oh well. Theoden as well as all those with him turned to see who had spoken, the Rohirim were shocked to see the young, Elven woman who had addressed their king. "My lord..." Gandalf nodded encouragement. "There is one of our company who is already in Edoras. Would any of your men possibly know where she is?"

"A young woman was brought here by Eomer when he returned, so that she may await our arrival here," Gandalf explained. "She is our dear friend, and she was lightly wounded when she was last seen by my companions. Is it possible for at least lady Maylin if not all of us to see her?"

"Most certainly!" King Theoden replied, shocked at this knowledge. "If I had been aware of her presence, I would have attended to this matter much earlier than this! You there!" he called a guard. "Go and find the lady...?"

"Leigh," Maylin said.

"... Leigh," Theoden finished. "Eomer, do you know what has become of her since her arrival?"

"Nay, my lord," Eomer responded. "It was nearly immediately after my arrival that Grima threw me behind bars. I regret that I know not where she is."

In a few moments, the guard reappeared with a young lady following close behind him. Maylin yelped with joy and a cry escaped Boromir as well.

"LEIGH!" Maylin squealed, enfolding her friend in a massive bear hug.

"Maylin..." Leigh gasped. "Ribs... bruised... ouch."

"Sorry," Maylin blushed. "I was a little excited."

"That's fine," Leigh grinned. "So am I. You look very clean."

"You look very dirty," Maylin snickered.

"_Elves_," Leigh rolled her eyes. Then her manners jerked back into gear and she bowed as low as she could with her bruises before the King of the Riddermark. "Hail King Theoden. I apologize for my rudeness."

"There is no need for apology," he smiled. "It is I who should apologize to you, no guest in my house should be treated so poorly."

"The only one who should be apologizing is _that snake_," she frowned, glaring at Grima.

"Did he abuse you?" Boromir demanded, hand near his sword, the other guys followed suit.

"No," Leigh grinned. "He tried to escort me to a room where I could receive care for my injuries... I walloped him." For the first time, Maylin noticed the dark bruise on Wormtongue's pale cheek.

"You didn't," she gasped.

"I did," Leigh smiled. "As soon as we were outside of the Hall, he was introduced with my fist."

"Then I take it you have not received care for your wounds?" Aragorn demanded.

"Noooo," Leigh said slowly. "But they're not that bad, just a few bruises and scratches."

"If I may be so bold, my lady," Eomer spoke up, "I do believe that some of the wounds you bear should be treated."

"I got kicked a couple times, that's it!" Leigh protested, trying to stare down Aragorn.

"Then what are those?" Maylin asked, waving a hand towards the whip cuts along her back and legs.

"Even my best friend is against me," Leigh moaned. Then she was hit with a thought. "Hullo, Gandalf!"

"Hello, young one," Gandalf laughed. "You indeed took your time greeting me."

"Like I had a chance?"

"My lord Theoden," Aragorn spoke. "Would you grant me permission to treat the lady's wounds before I rejoin this council?"

"Indeed you may," Theoden smiled. "But first, tell me how one so young has received such wounds."

"She was taken by Orcs and Uruk-Hai," Boromir repllied, "while saving my life."

"This is a brave tale indeed!" Theoden exclaimed. "And how came you to escape them?"

"Your sister-son, lord Eomer, and his men rescued me from their camp near Fangorn," Leigh told him.

"I shall not keep you any longer," Theoden said. "There seem to be many strange tales entwined with this company."

"Greetings again, lassie," Gimli greeted roughly as she passed him, propelled forward by Aragorn's firm hand. "You have a talent for keeping us on edge."

"Hello, Gimli," she grinned. "And hello to everyone else I haven't had the _chance_ to greet yet!" Then Aragorn pushed her around a corner, with Maylin tagging along with them so that she could still speak with her friend.

"She is a brave woman," Theoden wondered after her.

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed. "And stubborn as well, the same with lady Maylin. Two of the bravest and most strong-willed young women I have ever met." Then they returned their attention to Grima... all except Boromir who gazed after the place he had last seen Leigh.

Luckily, Leigh proved to be right about her ribs at least. They were bruised pretty badly, but that was all, there was no really harm done.

"What I would like to know is how you managed to receive so many kicks to make such bruises," Aragorn snorted. "Never mind that, I'm sure I know." Maylin and Leigh snickered.

Maylin had begun work on the deeper cuts in Leigh's back from the whip, some of them were rather bad, luckily none of the slashes on her legs were needy of attention. She diligently followed Aragorn's instructions on how to apply the dressing he had made onto the cuts, and then how to cover them to help avoid infection. As they worked, they talked, sharing what had all had happened while separated from each other. At long last, Aragorn declared her fit enough to live and Leigh happily sprung from the bench she had been sitting on.

"You can use my spare clothes," Maylin suggested, taking in the tattered state of Leigh's own attire. "I assume you didn't grab your pack before they got you."

"You'd be correct there," Leigh snickered. "I guess I must really be a sight for sore eyes, huh?"

"Yeah."

"As soon as you have finished," Aragorn said from the doorway, "come to the hall and get something to eat, I know Maylin hasn't eaten much of late, and I assume the same is true for you, Leigh."

"Uh-huh." Her stomach gurgled in agreement.

"Wait!" Maylin cried, rounding on her friend, and causing Aragorn to pause mid-step. "I think we missed something on her." she lunged forward and shoved up Leigh's long sleeves, revealing painful looking rope burns that encircled her wrists. "I thought so. You have a gift you know."

"Maylin," Aragorn ordered, "go ahead and eat, I'll join you soon."

"Both of you go on ahead," a new voice said. They turned to see Boromir standing in the passageway. "Just tell me what to do, and I shall care for her."

Aragorn sent a quick look at both Leigh and Boromir, then he quickly showed the Gondorian lord how to dress and wrap the wrist wounds before leaving with Maylin.

When they were alone, Boromir sat down next to Leigh and gently cupped her hand in his own. Carefully, he smoothed on the salve Aragorn had left for him to use. Silence reined for a few minutes as the two both stored up the feeling of simply being in each other's presence. It seemed like an age since they had last seen one another. Then Leigh jumped a bit as the salve burned a bit on a section of raw flesh.

"I apologize," Boromir said.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," Leigh stuttered. "It just stings a bit there is all."

"I have not yet had the opportunity to thank you," he said quietly, "for saving my life at Amon Hen. Maylin told me what was supposed to transpire there."

"I just couldn't..." Leigh choked. "I couldn't let you die... not after I knew you and... I just couldn't do it."

"Maylin.. also said something else to me," he looked up into her eyes. "She said that we often do not know how much something means to us until we lose it. There is much I have left unsaid till now, and I would be a great fool to continue in such a manner."

Leigh was speechless for the next few minutes as Boromir finished dressing and bandaging her rope burns, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, not at all. Her heart was fluttering around wildly, as if it had forgotten how to beat normally. When he had finished, Leigh rose and took a step towards the door, extremely reluctant to end their time alone together. Boromir placed a hand on her arm to stop her and she sat back down.

"There is something I have been meaning to return to you," he told her, producing her Elven jem. "I believe you dropped this."

"You found it!" she cried.

"Yes, indeed," Boromir replied. "I thank you for leaving it, much was my mind eased with the hope of your survival by Aragorn's discovery of it." Slowly, he lifted up the pendant and slipped it around her neck, its proper place.

"Thank you," Leigh whispered.

Boromir returned the thanks with a quiet smile as he finished the task. When he was through, he lifted his hand up to cradle her face, so her eyes were looking strait up into his.

"I shall never be so foolish again," he told her.

Then he pulled her face towards his until his lips met hers in a deep, caring kiss.

Aragorn noticed a particular bounce to Maylin's step as she walked back with him. In his limited experience with the two girls, he knew at least one thing: a bounce in one of their steps and something was afoot.

"May I ask what has you in such a light mood?" he asked.

"Leigh and Boromir," Maylin answered shortly.

"Ah, yes," Aragorn turned to her with a smile. "I beg you this one thing, please do not attempt to be a match-maker in this case. I believe those two will do just fine without any encouragement."

"Don't worry I'm not quite that stupid," Maylin laughed. "Out of curiosity, why did you just leave the two of them alone together back there?"

"Boromir is an honorable man," Aragorn told her. "He will not do anything to harm her, and... I think he very much desired to speak with her... alone."

"I know that feeling," Maylin nodded. "I just can't read it in guys that well I guess."

"Even though you are wise for your age does not mean that you know everything there is to know of Middle Earth quite yet," Aragorn teased her.

"I surrender," Maylin raised her hands. Aragorn laughed and they entered the immense hall to join the others.

Once inside, a guard showed the two to seats at the high table, and Maylin felt herself blush at the honor. Aragorn gave her a friendly jab with his elbow as he left her to go to his seat a few chairs away from her. From beside her, a clear, obviously Rohiric voice spoke up.

"How is your friend, the lady Leigh?" Eomer asked with concern in his eyes.

"She's fine," Maylin replied. "Her wounds are not grievous, and we took care of them quickly. At the moment, she is with Lord Boromir."

"I am glad to hear that she is well," Eomer bowed his head and then returned to his own musings. Maylin thought it was very courteous and kind of him to show concern for her friend.

"So the little lassie isn't dead quite yet, eh?" Gimli asked from her other side.

"No, stubborn as always," Maylin grinned. "It is a very good thing that lord Eomer treated her head wound when he did though. That might have turned out badly."

"Lady Maylin," Aragorn called from down the row. "Less talk, more eating."

Maylin glowered at him while her companions enjoyed a hearty laugh at her expense, even Legolas smiled rather broadly.

Shortly afterward, Boromir entered with Leigh on his arm, who was now wearing Maylin's clothes. The girl had her eyes locked with Boromir, obviously _something_ had happened while they were alone. When they reached the table, Boromir escorted Leigh to her seat before going and taking his beside Aragorn, who greeted him with an upraised eyebrow. Boromir just shrugged and smiled before digging in to the food before him.

Leigh sat in an empty seat between Maylin and Eomer, so the moment she was seated, there was a torrent of questions from her 'dining' partner.

"What is this?" Leigh hissed back in answer to her friend's endless questions. "The Spanish Inquisition!"

"No," Maylin chuckled. "Just your _best friend_ being a little _concerned_."

"Concerned my foot," Leigh snorted. "You're just being nosey."

"Sure."

Eomer had been careful to not eavesdrop on the conversation, or rather intense questioning, that was going on beside him. Despite his best efforts however, he did end up picking up the drift of what they were discussing... Boromir. It didn't take him long to realize that the two had a bit more than a passing crush on each other, there was something far deeper involved.

A part of him was fascinated by this stranger who had appeared so mysteriously and bore such an ordeal with such strong defiance. She was beautiful, bold and new to him, and he fought the desire to learn all he could about her, absorb every detail. She was claimed by another, and she seemed to return his affections, so it was not his place to interfere.

A/N: Hullo again! I see you liked it (or not) so be very sweet and nice and say something to me! It's nice and long, so that means I had fun! Who's shipping for who now?


	20. The Coming of Night

Disclaimer: It is very obvious to see why anyone would want to own the Lord to the Rings... but I don't.

A/N: Here is some more lovely fic for my wonderful reviewers! You guys rock! Anyway, the next update shall contain at least the beginning of the Helm's Deep battle, I know, I'm excited too! Enjoy this bit, and I shall scurry off to write some more for you! See you at the end!

The Coming of Night

When they had all finished eating, Theoden's armorbearers came forward, loaded with chain mail, helms, and sheilds. Both girls hesitated a moment and looked at Gandalf for council. He nodded towards the armor, indicating that some was for them as well, so they quickly left their seats along with the other men receiving these gifts to find something that might fit them. When Eomer saw the two women being fitted out for war, he frowned.

"Why would these women need such armor to go to the mountains with the other women and children?" he asked, looking at his uncle.

"They ride with us to Helm's Deep," Gandalf answered him, "not with the women and children. They have proven themselves in battle before this, in places as dark and dangerous as where we ride to now if not more so."

"Surely you do not mean for them to fight?" Eomer demanded.

"Gandalf has spoken to me on this matter before now, Eomer," Theoden reassured him. "He speaks of only a few of their deeds, and I trust his council in bringing them."

"But they are women!" Eomer protested.

"As are the shield maidens of your country," Gnadalf reminded him sternly. "I know these girls well, and I would not hesitate to trust them with my life. Darkness they have passed through of which you have only heard tell in legend, and you know little of them, so it is not your place to judge them so harshly."

"Indeed," Boromir agreed. "When I said that lady Leigh had saved my life, I was not referring to any healing of herbs or great strategy, but by her strength of character in combat against many foes. She chose to risk capture rather let me die. When you have come to know these two better, you shall not be so firmly set against them."

"Enough of this," Theoden waved his hand, "let us not quarrel before we go into battle. How comes the arming?"

"Very well, my lord," Maylin replied, now arrayed in light mail and a small helm with a round, green shield. Leigh came up beside her similarly decorated.

"Will you fight as well, lady Leigh?" Theoden asked her. "Are your wounds enough to keep you from battle?" For a split second Eomer hoped that they were.

"No, my lord, they are not," Leigh smiled. "I shall do everything in my power to stay away from the heaviest of fighting, but I bear only a few bruises and scrapes as I tried to tell lord Aragorn before. They are not enough to keep me entirely away from the fight."

Gimli came forward bearing only a shield that he had found suitable for his height.

"May it keep you well!" Theoden told him. "It was made for me in Thengel's day when I was just a boy."

"I am proud, Lord of the Mark, to bear your device," Gimli bowed. "Indeed sooner would I bear a horse than be borne by one. I love my feet better."

The girls laughed at the Dwarf's comment, earning an only half serious glare from Gandalf.

Theoden then rose and Eowyn rushed forward with a cup.

"_Ferthu Theoden hal!_" she said. "Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at they going and coming!"

When Theoden had drank, Eowyn offered it to the guests as well. Up to this point, the girls had been dodging alcohol as much as was possible. They didn't drink in their world, and it felt really weird to drink it here. But they both took small sips from the cup when it was offered to them, succeeding in hiding their grimaces of dislike. Gimli knew what they were thinking though and elbowed Leigh in the ribs when the cup was passed on to him.

Theoden declared all he need to say before leaving, including what poor wretch had to stay behind (Eowyn) and announced that Eomer was now his successor since the death of his own son Theodred left him without a child to take the throne. Leigh spotted the way Eowyn looked at Aragorn, and she felt a strong pity for both of them.

As they walked out, Maylin and Leigh walked with Gimli and Legolas, none of whom were great lords of Men and didn't need to stand by the king every waking moment.

"Well at last we set out!" Gimli roared. "Man need many words before deeds. My axe is restless in my h ands. Though I doubt not that these Rohirrim are fell-handed when they come to it. How shall I come to battle? I wish I could walk and not bump like a sack at Gandalf's saddlebow."

"A safer seat than many, I guess," Legolas replied. "Yet doubtless Gandalf will gladly put you down on your feet when blows begin; or Shadowfax himself. An axe is no weapon for a rider."

"And a Dwarf is no horseman," Gimli snorted. Then Eomer walked up to the chatting friends.

"Hail, Gimli Gloin's son!" he called."Shall we not set aside our quarrel? Would you ride with me in token of your pardon?"

"Aye!" Gimli said heartily. "But we must speak of the Lady Galadriel, and I shall tell you of her, for she is the fairest lady that yet lives in the land. And Legolas my friend must ride beside us."

"Legolas may indeed ride beside us!" Eomer promised. "Aragorn on one side and Legolas on the other, no one will dare stand against us! However, I must admit my doubt that there is none fairer than the Lady Galadriel." He glanced at Leigh.

"That we shall debate further on our ride, then," Gimli announced, set on converting another to see the flawless beauty of the Lady.

Sam didn't like the new Smeagol one bit. He was a sneaky little devil if he had ever seen one, and everything about him screamed a warning to Sam's senses. Why did Frodo have to be so trusting? If that little sneak decided to do something 'tricksy' then there wouldn't be much if any warning. And now Jaden was falling for his little act too! She was a sensible girl, one of the smartest he's ever met, why was she acting like such an idiot when it came to that awful Gollum?

When the moon had sunk again, they started out with their new guide. Jaden had to admit that following him was tricky sometimes, he moved quickly, and the ways he took were far easier for him to scramble down than for them to slip and slide after him. Loose rocks had become the girl's worst enemy within a total of five minutes.

As they worked their way down the slope into the little gorge with a stream where Jaden knew Smeagol would say his bit about fish, her foot shot out from under her and she plummeted a few yards to the bottom, landing heavily on her face.

"Miss Jaden!" Sam cried. "Are you alright? Miss Jaden!"

"I'm alright," Jaden shouted back, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "I think I just got a scratch or two, besides that I'm fine, I didn't die from falling a few yards, Sam."

"Good," Frodo sighed. "We're all just a bit jumpy tonight is all."

"And the blasted loose rocks certainly don't help our cause," Jaden glowered at the guilty rock face before her.

"Did the Jaden hurt herself?" Smeagol asked, scuttling over. He frowned and quicky touched to bloody lip. "Jaden is bleeding. She should be more careful."

"It's just a bloody lip," Jaden sighed. "No real harm done! Why does everyone here freak out if a girl so much as stubs her toe around here?"

"You must understand, Jay," Frodo said slowly, using her nickname to help her relax again. "I don't know how it is where you come from, but here, women are regarded as something to protect, and it's very odd for one to want so go tramping off with the men and fight. I guess you could call the concern a reflex."

"I'm not blaming anyone," Jaden explained. "It's just kinda weird to me."

"Come, come," Smeagol called in a sing-song voice. "Must move on now, sillies! Can't talk all night. Then orcses come, and hear the noise, bad for Hobbitses and Jaden... bad for Smeagol. Must go, must go now."

Jaden murmured the fish riddle under her breath as she started off after Smeagol, "Alive without breath; as cold as death; never thirsting, ever drinking; clad in mail, never clinking. Drowns on dry land, thinks an island is a mountain; thinks a fountain is a puff of air. So sleek, so fair! What a joy to meet! We only wish to catch a fish. So juicy-sweet!" Smeagol turned around with bright eyes.

"Knows our riddle it does!" he exclaimed. "How does it know, we wonder?"

"Yet another mystery to think on, Smeagol," Jaden smiled. "And, yes I know your riddle. It's a fish, and I know a lot more of them too."

"Riddles!" he cried happily. "It knows riddles!"

"Not 'it'," Jaden sighed. "I am a 'she' or even better 'Jaden' or if that's too hard, then just say 'Jay'."

"Yes," Smeagol bobbed his head. "We will call it 'Jaden' and we will ask it riddles, and it will ask _us_ riddleses!"

Jaden and Frodo shared a mutual look of laughter. Both of them knew the riddles Bilbo had used as well as those Gollum had used, and some more random ones that they had picked up elsewhere to boot. Perhaps this trip might not be quite so dismal after all.

Aragorn strode up to the happily talking group and declared in a loud, teasing voice, "Now who's going to put up with these two ladies for the entirety of our trip?"

"Not I," Gandalf snorted. "I have had my share of bearing one before me across the plains."

"Maylin may ride with me," Aragorn offered. "My mount can easily bear the both of us."

"And I shall ride with Leigh," Boromir stated. No one argued with him, there was no point fighting a battle when he'd already won.

"Oh, I wish we didn't have to ride," Leigh groaned.

"Do you dislike horses, my lady?" Eomer asked in astonishment.

"I _love_ horses," Leigh replied, "they just don't love _me_."

"One trail ride and she's terrified for life," Maylin snorted.

"The thing _bolted_," her friend protested. "That's not my fault."

"Well," Aragorn jutted in, "to make certain that _this_ horse likes you, we are going to introduce you first."

"Huh?"

"Just do as I show you," Aragorn laughed. He took her hand and held it up beneath the horse's nostrils. The great beast sniffed at the new oddity in surprise, snorting and tossing his head with approval when he had finished his examination. "That should do well enough."

"Of course the ultimate test is seeing if it bolts the moment I get on," Leigh frowned.

"I shall be right there with you if it does," Boromir joked, offering her a hand up in front of himself.

The day's ride was long, really, really long. While Maylin could easily appreciate the beauty of such lovely grass, there were limits on just how much of its singular beauty she could take at one time. Grass, grass, grass, and then for something new and different, more grass!

In Leigh's opinion, the endless green and yellow dunes that flowed around them were graceful and full of their own life. The sun cast different shadows on the waving sea throughout the day as it moved across the sky above them, changing the hue of the ocean they floated through. Leigh commented on the strange beauty of the plains often to Boromir, and he laughed at her eager description, telling her in turn of the glories of his own country, and fair Minas Tirith, eagerly promising to show it to her the moment the war was over. Leigh had a passing thought that they might not all live to see the end of this war.

Eomer often caught himself looking across the row of horses and riders to where the lady Leigh sat in front of Lord Boromir. Rarely had he seen such excitement for the plains of his country in a foreigner as he saw in this young woman. Whenever the wind tossed bits of her conversation to him, it almost always consisted of praise for the beauty of the emerald and gold flowing by around her, either that or a simple laugh at something her companion mentioned. He desperately wished to know all that she was saying, he was so curious about her, and there was a part of him that wanted to find something about her that would make it impossible for her to fight with the men. In a moment, every laughing look, every defiant statement, could disappear forever with the blow of a broad sword.

With the leaving of the sun went the glee the band of friends felt from their reuniting with Leigh. Suddenly the air was cold, and they were hard pressed to reach Helm's Deep before the Uruks beat them there. Even once they were inside, the dark stone of the hard battlements and walls were little comfort... except that they were behind them and the enemy was not... yet. At least they arrived sooner than they had in the books, that allowed for a few hours of peace (and maybe some SLEEP) before the army of Saruman arrived. But what they received instead, was an unexpected surprise.

Legolas had planned long and carefully, and now he had gathered the courage to execute his ambitious ideas. For what seemed like an age, he had been thinking of how to inform Maylin of his feelings toward her, but he had not yet found the opportunity to do so. Surely now was a good time? The chances were likely that many of them wouldn't last through this night, so if he didn't tell her now, he might never get the chance to ever again. He was resolved, he would tell her now, and if they lived, he would face her reaction afterwards.

Maylin and Leigh were debating where the best place for them to fight would be, not too much action, but enough to maybe turn some heads... of lose them. Gimli was encouraging them to stand fairly near to himself.. just not so near as to put them in the way of his axe. Then a certain, tall Rohirrim came striding up to them.

"My Lord Eomer," Maylin bowed, rising for the act before sitting again to continue work on her bow. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I have come to ask you both one last time to stay out of the fight," he replied.

"Somehow I suspect you already know the answer to that, my Lord," Leigh snorted.

"I am afraid I do."

"We have fought before, not on such a scale, but we have been faced with numbers exceeding our own," Leigh said with a tint of anger in her voice. "Besides, what good would there be in waiting in the caves? If you lose this battle, then it hardly matters what part of the fortress we are in, we will be captured or killed."

"It would still ease my mind greatly," the horselord said quietly, "to know that you were safe for the moment."

Gimli frowned. There was something in the horse lad's manner that reminded him strongly of feelings a wee bit beyond mere friendship. He had also not failed to notice how the young Lord had looked over to another horse and its pretty little burden a bit more than he should. None of these were good signs. And Leigh was well on her way with Boromir, a good, honorable man, there was no room in her strong heart for two brave men. This would lead to the heartbreak of one of them. For the moment, he just thanked his lucky rocks that Boromir wasn't yet knowledgeable of certain facts that he'd witnessed. The Dwarf resolved to bring up the subject with Aragorn and Legolas after the battle if things stayed on their current route.

"I apologize, my lord," Leigh shook her head. "It is not our wish to cause you anxiety, but our response remains the same."

With a short nod, Eomer then walked off to attend to his duties as the king's heir and Third Marshal of the Mark.

Waiting until the others had left, Legolas slipped away from the wall and shadow he had been using to remain unobserved. He walked carefully over to where Maylin was sitting on the stone steps, checking over her arrows, preparing for battle.

"Good evening, my lady," he greeted her.

"Oh! Hello, Legolas!" she smiled. "And I've told you already, it's 'Maylin' not 'my lady' or whatever."

"I stand corrected," he chuckled. "The battle will begin soon."

"About midnight, I think," Maylin nodded.

"Before it begins, I..." A loud blast from a trumpet interrupted him before he could finish.

Maylin's face actually changed color, several times actually. First she went deathly pale, then she turned an excited shade of bright red. With a cry, she leapt up from her seat on the stairs and plunged on towards the gate. Leigh met her half-way, equally excited.

"The Elves have come!" she shouted to Maylin as she ran over. "They came! They came!"

"Why though?" was all Maylin could spit out.

"I guess we altered the story," Leigh gasped for breath. "It wouldn't be the first time."

But then all such concerns were completely driven from their minds as they saw a very familiar, _two_ very familiar faces appear.

"_Jack!_"

A/N: Jack is back, baby! It feels good to have him back in the picture, he will be much changed though, I give you warning! (But do not fear, he's still as sweet as ever!)


	21. Crashing of the Tide

Disclaimer: Read my lips: I do not own the Lordof the Rings. If I did I probably wouldn't be writing this fic. And I certainly wouldn't have to write this thing every single stinking time!

A/N: Sorry that I took so long! Hopefully this will ease your fears... unlikely though. Haha, this is the first part of the battle, I will try to post the next chapter as soon as I can, and again I apologize for this one taking so long. The good news is, the next one should take less time! Enjoy!

Crashing of the Tide

Leigh threw herself at her old friend, squeezing the air out of him.

"Good to see you too," he gasped, then he squeezed back.

"You took your merry time getting here!" Maylin laughingly accused.

"Yeah well," Jack shrugged. "You know how traffic is and all..."

Leigh spied an awkward looking pack thrown on his back, a bit different from what the Elves he had come with bore. It was large and roughly triangular...Jack caught her looking and grinned.

"My harp," he explained.

"Can you actually _play _it?" Maylin asked in amazement.

"That is something that I will only reveal _after_ the battle," he smirked. "Gives you something to look forward to."

"Blast you," Leigh chuckled. "You're not so timid anymore."

"I have stayed true to my word," Haldir replied as he walked up, "perhaps a bit more than was needed."

"Aw," Leigh pouted, "but he won't be anywhere near as much fun to TEASE now!"

"Thank you, my lord Haldir," Maylin smiled, a little shyly. "We are deeply grateful for your presence and the return of our friend."

"And you are most deeply welcomed," Haldir replied.

Then their little reunion was broken off temporarily by the coming of King Theoden and the rest of their own company. Haldir turned and addressed the leaders formally and offered the services of his fellow Elves. While he was speaking, Maylin was staring at him with poorly concealed adoration. Leigh gave her a nudge in the ribs and received a walloping return of her action with interest. Despite the pain in her ribs, she couldn't help snickering. More jabs.

The moment they were through the formalities with Haldir, the remnants of the Fellowship quickly made their way over to where Jack was standing with the girls. All of them were grinning or smiling... except one, who's quiet smirk seemed a little bit forced.

"Jack, laddie!" Gimli boomed. "You've grown, lad!" Then the Dwarf paused as he gripped Jack's forearm and searched his face. Jack met his eyes levelly. "You are much changed, master Jack."

"Indeed he has!" Boromir greeted warmly. "A proper warrior he'll turn out to be yet! Welcome back, Jack! It has been too long."

"It has," Jack nodded, but he was staring, obviously confused, then he shot his eyes at Leigh, who was studying a curious crack in the stones. "Forgive me, Boromir," he continued. "I am simply... surprised."

"Yes," Boromir bowed his head. "I understand why. Leigh saved me from the Uruks."

"Ah," Jack arched his eyebrows, glancing between the two. "Did she really?"

"Stop keeping the new arrival all to yourself, Boromir!" Aragorn objected. With a wide grin he stepped forward and happily embraced the younger man... Jack wasn't a mere boy anymore, he'd grown up considerably. "Far too much time has passed since last we met."

"Trust me I know," Jack laughed heartily.

"Greetings to you again, master Jack," Legolas spoke up, last in line.

"Legolas!" the young man cheered. "I feel I understand you and your race so much better since I stayed in Lorien. There is much I would like to discuss with you."

"I shall look forward to it," the Elven prince smiled faintly. "You have changed much, Jack."

"I already said that, master Elf!" Gimli pointed out.

"And who is this that comes in the company of the Elves?" King Theoden asked as he approached along with Eomer and his men.

"I am Jack," the young man bowed. "It is a great honor to meet you, King Thoeden."

"He is our friend, who we left in Lorien to recover," Aragorn informed the king.

"You have many friends, Aragorn!" he laughed. "He is indeed most welcome here, anyone who can wield sword or bow is a welcome guest!"

"Aragorn..."Leigh looked up at him hopefully, choosing to ignore the twinkle in his eyes. "Could we please go off and talk with Jack... alone?"

"There is time enough," the Ranger laughed. "Go and speak with your friend!" With a happy squeal, Leigh dashed off with Jack, but Maylin followed a bit slower, trading a smile with the leader of the Elven warriors.

Once in the safety of relative seclusion, Leigh quickly filled Jack in on all that had happened in his absence, including her rescue from the orcs and the meeting with Grima. Jack arched an eyebrow.

"You've certainly kept yourself busy," he noted. "There is one thing you didn't speak of that I really want to hear about: you and Boromir." Leigh turned beet red and Jack doubled over laughing. "I thought so, I wish you luck."

"We missed you, Jack," Maylin smiled as she hugged him fondly. In short order, she filled him in on all the events that Leigh hadn't been a witness to, including Jaden's choice to follow Frodo to Mordor. At that, Jack's head fell into his hands and he moaned in frustration.

"Why did she go with them?" he wondered. "Doesn't she know that she could ruin everything just by being there?"

"She isn't stupid, Jack," Leigh objected. "She wouldn't have gone without reason, I think she was privy to some things we were not... It just isn't in her nature to do things without a reason."

"Well, let's just hope for the best then," Jack smiled faintly. "Maylin, how have you been getting along?"

"Just fine," the Elf smiled. "Better since you and your friends came."

"Oh yes," Leigh frowned. "I forgot about that."

"What?"

"Haldir."

"The Lord and Lady gave the order," Jack shrugged. "I can't tell you anything else."

"Except that we've messed up the story... again."

After that, they rejoined their companions and began debating where best to position themselves for the battle. Jack announced that his bow skills had greatly improved through Haldir's guidance, and Leigh took the opportunity to ask, "What bow skills?" He insisted that he wasn't lying though, and after a brief demonstration, Legolas seemed convinced, and suggested that they fight together, where there would be more arrows than swords. Jack did admit that his sword abilities were still severely lacking.

"One is settled then," Aragorn announced, turning to the others, "two to go."

"Lord Haldir has offered to keep an eye on me during the battle," Maylin suggested. Gimli noticed the pained look on his friend's face and roughly patted him on the back.

"One to go then," Aragorn raised his eyebrows, turning lastly to Leigh.

"If you don't mind," Leigh asked slowly, "I would like to fight with you. There's a promise I was supposed to keep that I haven't been doing too well with."

"A promise?" Aragorn asked.

"Mmmhmmm," Leigh nodded mischievously. Knowing that this was all the answer he was going to get, Aragorn sighed and continued.

"While _I_ have no objections, Lord Eomer might."

"Who cares?" the girl shrugged. "I don't. If he doesn't like the idea of me fighting so much, he can fight somewhere else."

"If I say 'no' you'll just come along once the battle has begun won't you?" Aragorn asked.

"Certainly!"

"I suppose that settles it then," Gimli stated. "The lad with Legolas and I, Maylin with the Elves of Lorien, and the younger lass with Aragorn."

"I stand with Leigh," Boromir announced.

"As you wish it," Aragorn smiled.

"Oh, yes, Leigh!" he added, pulling something from a pack. "You left this at Amon Hen."

"Nolemacil!" Leigh yelled, eagerly taking her sword from Aragorn.

"Don't lose it again," Aragorn laughingly cautioned.

"Oh, believe me," Leigh beamed, gazing lovingly at her sword, "I won't."

Maylin slipped away to be on her own for a few moments, at least that what's she told herself. In all reality, she was secretly hoping to have a chance to see Haldir before the battle. Once they were on the wall, things would be a bit more formal, that was just the Elves' way with such things... really that held true in private as well. For once, Maylin envied Leigh for the mere fact that she was Human, and so was the man she was in love with.

"My lady," a rich, Elven voice said behind her back.

Holding her breath, she turned around to see Haldir standing only a few yards away from her. Oh, she'd missed seeing him.

"My lord," she answered. 'My lord!' a part of her screamed. 'You say you like this guy and all you can say is, 'my lord'!'

"Your presence has been sorely missed in Lorien," Haldir informed her. "By one more than any other." Maylin smiled a bit shyly.

"And you have been missed as well," Maylin replied.

"That is good to know," he laughed quietly.

"Aragorn has agreed to let me stand with the Lorien Elves during the battle," the girl told him.

"I am very glad to hear that, it will be a great comfort to know that you are under my direct protection."

"There is none other with whom I would I could feel safer," Maylin assured him.

"It is a great honor you give me," Haldir bowed.

"Not as great as what you've given me," Maylin beamed.

"Surely," Haldir announced, stepping closer to her, "there is no greater privilege than to defend the one I love."

Then the tall, Elven captain swept the young woman into a gallant kiss. She felt her spirits break free and fly up to the stars, the stars that had first kindled their hearts.

Eventually, the merry mood seeped down into the hard stone under their feet, and the lightness of their thoughts came crashing down to the business at hand. The sky rumbled distantly, promising a good drenching to those poor fools caught outside and shook the nerves of the men, woman and Elves standing ready on the wall to possibly meet their doom. Their outlook was bleak, many saw no hope for their survival, and many were right to think so, by the time the sun rose the next day, the bodies of the slain would be as deep as the Deeping Wall. However, there were still a few sparks of hope left to the sturdy warriors. Their leaders stood by them with courage in the darkness of that hour, and three young strangers also stood beside them, sending a slight glimmer of hope to all those around them.

Maylin tried to pierce through the heavy gloom with her sharp, Elven eyes, but all she received for her efforts was a slight headache. If only they would just hurry up and come! It felt like she was waiting at the top of a drop tower, waiting breathlessly for the ride to plunge downwards in a free fall. The waiting was always the hardest.

She hadn't really spoken with Haldir since his arrival, but he had stayed by her side from the moment she joined him on the Deeping Wall. It seemed to her that they almost didn't even need to speak to each other to share their feelings, every glance had pages of words flooding through it. There was a happy, almost giddy feeling when she caught one of his smiles, it was like jumping into to a cool pool in the middle of summer. She wished with all of her heart that the battle could just get itself over with, she desperately wanted to be alone to talk with Haldir, for she knew that it would be improper to show his emotions for her in front of all the Elves who were looking to him to lead them. If only it were over...

Jack hopped to warm his feet, they had become frozen and somewhat numb after the first half hour of standing there doing nothing. Gimli looked over at him and guffawed.

"At least one of us knows how to stay warm before the battle!" he hooted. "But just let those nasties pop their heads over the wall and my blood will heat faster than Leigh's face when you mention Boromir!"

"So," Jack smiled, "it's serious between them then."

"Aye," the Dwarf nodded. "When this is over, he'd better make a proposal, or I'll beat some sense into his love-thickened skull!"

"Leigh still has to agree, Gimli," Legolas pointed out. "It could be that she doesn't truly wish to be with him in that way."

"Ha!" Gimli hooted. "If you can't see she likes him, then your eyes are not befitting an Elf!"

"There might be something we've overlooked, though," Legolas persisted. "She's a wise girl, I doubt that she would rush into marriage without knowing Lord Boromir a bit better first."

"'A bit better'!" Gimli roared. "She risked her life for him, I'd say she holds him fairly high in her esteem!"

"Perhaps," the Elf shrugged then a playful smile spread over his face. "I say she will not marry him until the war is finished and over, not a moment sooner."

"Oh but you think she will later then, eh?" Gimli cocked an eyebrow. "Not all races act as the Elves do, master Legolas. Humans are not known for twiddling their thumbs and waiting for years to speak up on a point!"

"Perhaps."

"I think there's something missing still," Jack mused. The arguers turned towards him and cocked their heads in question. "They certainly get along well enough," Gimli laughed, "but there doesn't seem to be... something... I just can't explain it. A spark maybe."

"A spark?" Gimil asked. "You want to see a spark? You just wait, I'll coax out a spark or two for ye!"

"Oh, for pity's sake," Legolas moaned. "You aren't going to try and match-make those two are you?"

"If they need a push in the right direction," the Dwarf raised his head, "I'll push 'em."

At that moment, Leigh was leaning back against the stone of the Deeping Wall between Aragorn and Boromir. Everything was silent in their stretch, although Gimli and those of his company were nearby, all they could hear was the occasional wisp of a roaring laugh or chuckle. Boromir looked down at her with a smile.

"Warm enough?" he asked teasingly. "I'm afraid I do not have my cloak with me at the moment."

"I'm perfectly fine," she replied with a mocking smile. "And besides, your cloak must reek by now anyway."

"Beware, my lord Boromir!" Aragorn laughed. "The lady's tongue is a match for her sword."

"That," Boromir chuckled, "I learned long ago."

After that, the silence descended down on the wall again, and Leigh often found herself looking up at the stars... or lack of really. How come every time there was a battle, there were always clouds or something else to block the light? It wasn't fair. She'd hung around Maylin long enough to develop a keen love of the stars and their twinkling light, they brought comfort to her. They had been her loyal companions among the Uruks when ever she'd had the strength to raise her head, and they had smiled down on her on all the long nights of walking with the Fellowship. But once again they were smothered by the blackness, just as they had been in Moria, and just as they would be when Minas Tirith was besieged.

Eomer kept quiet through the long hours of waiting, looking down the long lines of his men, as well as the Elves that had come to aid them in their hour of need. The numbers of their enemies were great, and the defenders of Helm's Deep were few, and the White Rider was gone.

Against his better judgement, he had consented to Leigh standing along with Aragorn and himself during the battle. With any luck, she'd whimper and slink off to the caves after the first wave of the assult. In his heart though, he knew how unlikely that was. Now she was just sitting there, storing up her energy for the battle that was about to rage around her. What he couldn't decide was whether she was the bravest woman he'd ever met, or the most foolhardy.

Without warning, the first wave of blood-seeking arrows flew over the wall and the defenders on the wall ducked for shelter. The battle had begun.

An Elf to Maylin's left was pierced through the heart by one of the murderous shafts and tumbled over the wall into the churning darkness below. There was a moment of shock in Maylin's mind, filling it with a pure, snowy white. Then the darkness of her true surroundings were jarred back into view as she was hurriedly dragged down behind the battlement, away from the deadly flights of the arrows speeding past her. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Maylin turned to see Haldir beside her, with his hand firmly wrapped around her upper arm. He had pulled her down to safety.

"Are you sure you can do this, my lady?" he asked quietly. She nodded passionately.

"Yes," she assured him. "It was just that the start of it all was so sudden. I'm fine now."

"Good," he nodded. He moved to get up again, but paused suddenly and turned towards her again.

"I do care for you," he whispered.

"I care for you too," she beamed up at him. "Don't die, alright?"

"I will certainly try not to," he chuckled. Then he rose and hurried among his archers, preparing them for the counterattack.

With lightning speed, Jack and company dived down behind the sturdy shelter of the wall, dodging arrows. Gimli muttered what was keeping them so blasted long to bring up some ladders or other means of getting within his reach. After a pause that let their enemies sweat a bit, wondering what they had up their sleeves, they rallied themselves with a loud trumpet blast. Then they poured against the walls of Helm's Deep. With equal ferocity, the defenders answered their challenge.

Maylin pulled back her bow with steady precision of practice. So far at least two of her arrows had found new lodgings in Uruk-Hai faces and chests, and she held the dim hope of possibly being able to give Legolas a run for his money. The noise was earsplitting and the roars and chants of the Uruks below could easily be heard on the wall above. Beside her, Haldir loosed arrow after arrow into the dark throng below, dealing out death with natural, Elven grace.

Aragorn and Leigh spotted the threat to the gates at the same time, wild men and Uruks were hauling up enormous tree trunks that could only be used for one purpose.

"Come!" Aragorn cried to Eomer. "This is the hour when we draw swords together!"

Leigh dashed along behind them, not even noticed really, she didn't care, her blade was calling for blood, and she was ready to grant it.

As Men joined the small party, they threw glances at the young woman who ran along with them to fight. They could feel the strength of will radiating from her, and her eyes glinted like her slim, Elven sword. A woman, but most certainly a warrior.

With a war cry, they plunged as one into the crush of wild men and savage Uruks, hacking their way into their midst. Leigh felt her blood start to do strange things in her veins, churning, looping and swirling in wild eddies. A hoarse, strange bark of a laugh escaped her lips and for a moment she wondered if she was experiencing battle craze. Then she was swept away on the frenzied tide of her blood-lust.

In the face of certain death, the Uruks and wild men fled. Leigh lowered her sword and caught her breath in deep droughts as Aragorn and Eomer quickly turned their attention to the damaged gate.

"We did not come too soon," Aragorn observed as he looked at the gateway.

"But we cannot stay here, outside the walls to defend them," Eomer said. "Look!" Their enemies had regrouped and were now charging up the causeway in a fresh assault.

The team of fighters turned and ran back up the way they'd come only a few minutes before, this time with roaring monsters coming after them. In the blink of an eye about a dozen or so Orcs that had been playing dead hopped up to life and charged after the tail of the men trying to reach the safety of the fortress. Two dove to the ground behind Eomer, grabbing his heels and tripping him. In half a second they were on him.

Eomer had often heard that one's life flashes before their eyes before they die, and he was fairly confident he was about to find out if that was true or not. Then, with a sharp war cry, a slight figure leapt forward and there was a bright flash like lightning before his eyes. Suddenly, his two attackers were headless. The horselord stared up for a moment in shock at his savior, it was none other than the lady Leigh, that he had so strongly protested against joining them in the battle. Blinking away his surprise, he scrambled to his feet and dashed back the rest of the way to the keep. Once inside, he turned to Leigh along with Aragorn.

"I did not know you were with us in the sortie!" Aragorn exclaimed. "But often the unbidden guest proves the best company."

"Thank you," Leigh laughed breathlessly, waiting for her blood to stop screaming a war challenge in her ears. "I wasn't about to just sit around on my hands the entire fight, you know."

"I shall not find it easy to repay you," Eomer said.

"Believe me," Leigh snorted, "there will be plenty of chances before the night is over. And I am content anyway, Nolemacil was demanding some action."

"Your sword begins to form its legacy," Aragorn grinned, looking a lot like a proud brother.

"Evidently," Leigh smirked back.

A/N: Mwahahahaha! Still anxious? Poor out your fears and worries by clicking the little button on the bottom left and then typing them all in the little box! Thank you! See ya around!


	22. The Stars of Heaven

Disclaimer: Try and understand this- I DO NOT OWN THE LORD OF THE RINGS!

A/N: I apologize a thousand times for the inexcusable time it took to get this chap up! Hopefully though, the time was worth it, and this will be one of the best chapters yet! If you get teary eyed, you'd better tell me, because I aim for that. WARNING: There is some suicidal referances, so consider yourself warned this is one of the reasons this thing is rated T. Finally, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Elsir as an early birthday present! Happy birthday, may the stars always shine on the road before you! Hugz.

The Stars of Heaven

The moment the first grappling hooks shot over the wall, Gimli growled with blood thirsty glee. He shouted at a few people who threw them back down, but he didn't need to worry, there were far too many for all of the metal hooks to be thrown back down. Soon, massive ladders rose from the writhing black sea below like zombies and banged into place against the firm and unyielding stone of Helm's Deep. The first berserker to leap off his ladder met a nasty fate when Gimli's axe buried itself in his stomach.

Jack's arrows were flying like doves set free from a cage, whirring off on individual missions. Many found their marks in eyes, throats and any other bits of flesh the creatures made the mistake of showing. He hadn't lied about his newfound archery ability, it was nothing like Maylin's though, hers was more natural, his was due mostly to the amazing patience and teaching of the Elves of Lothlorien. It didn't really matter right then though, he was staying alive and that was the point. So far, his count was up to eleven, with any luck, he'd be able to best at least one of his friends before the night was over.

"_Khazad! Khazad!" _Gimli bellowed. "The orcs are behind the wall. Come, Legolas! There are enough for us both. _Khazad ai-menu!_"

The Uruks had come through the culvert that let the stream out, and now they had set upon the horses and their guards.

Jack leapt down after Legolas and Gimli, firing off arrows as fast as his hands would allow. All of the world came down to a few simple motions, grab, pull, aim, fire, grab, pull, aim, fire...

Maylin spotted the oncoming surge as well, and aimed her shots down towards the intruders. She spotted Jack doing like wise and grinned across the battle at him, it was a grey grin, but at least she had put an effort into it. In a matter of minutes, her arrows were spent for the second time that night, and she sighed in frustration as she slipped down to where the Uruk-Hai had recently made their breach. By this point, they had been driven further into the gorge, and few were left really, so it shouldn't be very dangerous to just drop down and gather some stray arrows that had flown over the wall.

It was annoyingly dark behind the wall, and she had to grope around to find undamaged shafts in the cool darkness. When she had gather another quiver full, she rose to leave, but found her way suddenly blocked.

Five Uruks barred her way, they had probably hid in the abundant shadows until their companions had run off, and waited for such an opportunity. Maylin opened her mouth to scream, but a sixth behind her jumped up and clapped a massive hand over her mouth. Silently and speedily, the monsters swung ropes around her and put a gag in her mouth. But as the sixth Uruk-Hai removed his hand for the gag to be put on, Maylin managed to scream one word.

"_Help!_"

Legolas had been finishing off a few runaways from the main body of invaders, when he heard the cry. At first he thought he was simply imagining the plea, but as he turned, he saw Maylin bashed roughly over the head with the sword hilt of a massive Uruk. With a cry of terror, he ran after the attackers. They would not take Maylin to their master!

The victorious kidnapers slung their limp quarry over the shoulder of their leader and turned to head back out through the culvert. Their master would be pleased, one of the warrior women, a mighty prize he had said. When they returned, their rewards would be rich indeed.

Suddenly a fierce, Elven warrior was among them, swinging his thin, deadly white knives around in blood seeking arches. With roars of frustration, they turned on this new foe and tried to stamp him down into the dust, but he was far too fast for them, driven by desperation and a force beyond anything their crude minds could understand. It seemed to the creatures that the pale moon above had seen their act and had sent down a fighter to release their captive.

The leader tossed aside the frail little frame of his burden and drew his sword again, grinning maliciously down at this daring little slip of a thing. He would squash him like a bug under his heel, what made the Elf think he could take him on?

Legolas jerked his twin blades free of the fifth Uruk-Hai's chest, whirling to meet the challenge of the captain, the one that held Maylin. He saw the Uruk toss aside the young woman like a rag doll, and Legolas felt his anger swell and crash over him like the tallest wave of high tide. _No one_ treated Maylin like that _no one_. Like two pointed shafts of moonlight, Legolas pointed his white knives toward the monster that had dared to harm Maylin.

On the same beat, the two opponents lunged at each other intent on spilling the other's blood on the ground. Legolas struck first, swinging his short blades in opposing swings to catch the Uruk in a cross movement, but they were blocked by the massive Uruk-Hai broad sword. Then it was the Uruk's turn, and he swung viciously at Legolas's head. Fleet footed as he was though, Legolas dodged away to safety from the fatal blade and plunged his knives down into the Uruk's neck. Spluttering, the thing fell down to its knees in a slow, bloody death as blood bubbled from its mouth. Sneering, Legolas stabbed his right knife into his foe's face, ending the battle once and for all.

Tucking his knives away in their sheaths, the Elven prince quickly jogged over to Maylin's still body. As he dropped to his knees beside her, he tenderly checked her pulse. Legolas sighed in relief to find that it was still strong beneath his fingers and her breath still flowed in and out through her lips. If anyone had been nearby, they would have easily seen the Elf lord's feelings for the girl written in clear marks across his face. With a sigh, he placed a hand on either side of her face and leaned his forehead silently against hers. He had come so close to losing her... and she wasn't even his.

With silent tears in his eyes, he lifted her in his arms and went to deposit her in the caves where she would be safe for the rest of this awful battle. After that... who knew?

Leigh had been fighting fiercely beside Boromir and Aragorn the entire night. She had discovered that the hot passion of battle fever only lasted so long before the body's complaints became strong enough to overpower it. Heedless of her tiring arms though, she pressed on diligently against her foes, slashing at anything that wasn't a friend and moved. A new fire was starting in her limbs, and it slowed her moves down with a constant, searing pain every time she swung her sword. For the first time, she was deeply grateful for the endless drills Glorfindel had forced her through during her stay at Rivendell, without them, she would have succumbed to fatigue long before. As things stood, it was only a matter of time before her arms failed her anyway.

She had seen Eomer often throughout the battle, he tended to stay near Aragorn, both of them being the two great warrior leaders and all. To her great relief, the horselord had ceased requesting her to go into the caves and fought along in relative silence. He probably just didn't have the breath to argue, she thought. That was fine with her, he was pretty nice when he wasn't talking.

After that she had to focus simply on staying alive, and she could spare no more thoughts for the Third Marshall of the Ridermark.

Further along the wall, Jack was having a few issues of his own. So much for fighting 'with' people! Gimli had sprinted off when the Uruks came beneath the wall, and then Legolas had followed suit shortly after when he spotted a couple of the things sneaking off. Now he was very, very frustrated, and a little bit scared. There were far more Uruks and wildmen than he could handle on his own, and the bow was not exactly the best weapon for close range combat.

A thick, blood-splattered blade narrowly missed taking his ear off, and Jack hastily spun and shoved his arrow into his assailant's eye. Ok, one down, nine thousand to go! A close buddy of the Uruk he had just disposed of grabbed him by the back and began maneuvering him toward the wall... where Jack guessed he would get a nice flight downwards.

"Crud!" he yelled in frustration, trying to get a hold on another arrow before he was thrown to his death.

The berserker grabbed Jack by the throat and lifted him off the ground, shoving him mercilessly against the cruel stone of the wall. In that instant Jack saw his life flash before his eyes. Then, just as the world started to darken and his back began to slip over the battlements, the hand wrapped around his throat abruptly loosened, and Jack fell in a gasping heap on the ground.

Sucking in lovely lung-fulls of air, Jack realized that the hand and forearm of the Uruk still clung to his neck, as if determined to kill him even though they had been separated from the rest of the body. He gasped, afraid of throwing up, and ripped the gory adornment from his neck, shuddering in disgust.

"Are you alright?" a light, Elven voice demanded from above him.

Jack craned his head up to look at the face of Haldir, who stood above him with drawn and bloodied sword, ready for another attack. He had never been so glad to see the Elf in his life.

"I am now," Jack grinned. Haldir returned the grin once he was certain the young man was unharmed and hauled him to his feet. "Thanks."

"You are most welcome," Haldir inclined his head.

A loud rumble roared below them and the stream burst free, announcing the blasting of a rather large hole in their defenses. With a brief nod, Haldir ran off again to direct his troops. Jack wondered if he should run after him, but then decided that Maylin could handle anything that came their way, and ran off toward the caves. It would be far better to be fighting near there when he had to run than find himself isolated on the wall.

Leigh was with Aragorn as they leapt down into the fray to drive out the Uruks for the second time. Nolemacil had been drinking its fill of blood that night, Leigh had counted twenty-eight Uruks that had met their deaths on her blade. Even these numbers were ridiculously small compared to the masses of monsters that frothed around the isolated fort. Even against such courage as was found in the hearts of the men around her, Leigh knew that they were fighting a battle that only a miracle could win for them... luckily for her, she knew that there was such a miracle coming with the sun. Now if only the sun would hurry up!

The rest of the night was spent in similar fashion by all: fight to live, and pray for the speedy arrival of the sun. Even those who didn't know what redemption the sun would bring with it looked forward eagerly to the light of day that would at least lift their spirits from the murk of the darkness presently around them.

The companions found themselves once again parted, but this time by a sea of bloodthirsty Uruk-Hai as opposed to mere miles. This proved to be even more aggravating for them, it was not even for certain that the others had lived through the battle.

While Aragorn climbed up to gaze out the window at the rising sun, Leigh gripped her sword and paced in frustration below, trying to reason away her fears for the lives of her friends. Her gut shouted that something was wrong, and it couldn't be ignored. The feeling was making her anxious and queasy with dread, and she desperately wanted to hit or kick something. Then an idea struck her. She might be able to solve her fears for at least one of her friends.

"Legolas," she spoke up, striding over to the Elf. "When did you last see Jack?"

"Quite awhile ago," Legolas sighed. "The last time we were near one another was on the Deeping Wall, just before the first incursion of the orcs." Leigh fidgeted. "But I have seen Maylin since then."

"Where? Is she alright?" Leigh asked speedily.

"She was unconscious but otherwise unharmed," Legolas soothed her fears. "I took her to the caves, I thought it best that she stay there until she awoke."

"Thank you, Legolas," Leigh smiled tiredly.

"You are most welcome," Legolas replied kindly. "Soon you shall see for yourself that they are both well."

"I hope so."

Boromir came up to them and gently took Leigh by the arms.

"There are not horses enough for all of us inside the Hornburg," he explained carefully. "And it would not be wise for two to try and ride together on this charge..."

"So I'm the odd man out," Leigh sighed. "I'm too tired to argue about it right now."

"Then you must be truly exhausted," Legolas smirked.

"I believe it best anyways that you stay here," Boromir continued. "You have fought well, besting many men, but you have not much experience, and your body has been worn to the bone."

"I agree," Aragorn announced walking up. "I would forbid it should everyone else endorse such a plan."

"Still outspoken, eh?"

"We must go now, Leigh," he told her, giving her a fierce hug. "Stay safe while we are away."

"I'll do my best," Leigh promised. And then they left her, and she was alone in the cold stone room.

Jack had his arm around Maylin as they huddled in the chilly depths of the caves. Maylin had been declared as unfit to fight after her incident, and Jack had volunteered to go further back into the dark regions of the cave system with her as a kind of body guard, not like it would matter much if the men in front were killed...

Gimli had come back to ask after them, and, once he had satisfied his desire to know that they were safe, he went back to fight along with the men of Rohan. It had been Eomer that had ordered Maylin back into the deeper reaches of the caves, taking full command of Deep. They might have objected under any other circumstances, but they were both tired enough to keel over with exhaustion then and there if it weren't for the murderous army trying to break in.

Deep inside the rock, they waited impatiently for the cries that would let them know it was safe to creep from their hiding place. They huddled together like frightened puppies, anxious to know what had happened in the world above, and yet fearing the worst.

Finally, the long desired trumpet blast rang down through the caves, and the two young friends crept forward towards the sunlight.

The first thought that came to Eomer's mind was, 'Where was Leigh?' He didn't want to think it, he didn't try to think it, it just came into his thoughts. The girl wasn't with Lord Boromir, Aragorn or even Legolas, and he couldn't see her among the rest of the riders that milled about.

"My lord," he asked Legolas quietly, his voice ringing with concern, "where is lady Leigh? Did she not make it to the Hornburg?"

"Oh, she did indeed," the Elf reassured him. "In fact, she is there still. There were not enough horses to mount all of those who sought shelter in the Hornburg, so a few had to stay behind."

"Thank you, master Elf," Eomer bowed before turning and striding quickly towards the citadel.

By the time he arrived there, the men that had been left behind had all already left to go out and greet the dawn, but he did not see Leigh among them. Inside of the rock walls, the air was cool and crisp, untouched by the rising sun. Perhaps she had fallen asleep? It wouldn't surprise him, she had fought like any warrior of the Mark, but her body was not as strong as that of a seasoned warrior.

What he saw abruptly shattered all of his previous thoughts, and his hand flew to his sword.

Leigh was indeed asleep, curled up in a corner, her sword still held in her hand. However, over her leered an Uruk, obviously it had hidden away in a cranny until such an opportunity such as this presented itself. It had a naked blade clasped in its strong fist, and one hand was outstretched toward the unprotected figure.

With a reverberating roar, Eomer leapt forward and brought his sword down into the back of the Uruk's skull, which sent it toppling forward... onto Leigh.

Leigh awoke with a start as something heavy and smelly flopped down on top of her. Her eyes flew open to meet the glassy stare of a dead Uruk. Frantically, she shouted and tried to shove the heavy carcass off of herself. A pair of strong hands hauled the dead thing off of her and quieted her panic. When she had calmed down enough to speak an understandable sentence, she managed to spit out a question.

"What happened?" she gasped, eyes goggling out of her head still.

"I came to make sure you were alright, my lady," Eomer explained mildly. "An orc apparently had the same concerns as I. The creature was about to strike when I spotted it."

"Oh, thank you, my lord," she stammered in a slightly broken sentance.

"It was the only honorable thing to do, my lady," he replied, slipping back into formality for a shield.

"I must go and find the others," Leigh stated, her eyes finally coming into focus. "Thank you again, my lord, but I must go now and look for my friends. I know not how they fared in the battle..."

"Lady Maylin and Jack are both well," Eomer promised her. "I saw them myself, they were under my protection in the caves."

"I seem to be eternally thanking you, lord Eomer," Leigh smirked. "I thank you once again, and now I must go to them."

As she hurried away on her quest, Eomer watched her retreating figure. So much had happened in one night, and she seemed but little moved by the battle that had threatened her very life. He still could have sworn that she was one of the Rohirrim, not only her appearance, but her courage and ferocity and battle reminded him keenly of his own people. From the way her companions treated her, it seemed that she hailed from no land he knew... soon she would be of Gondor though, the wife of the Steward if he wasn't mistaken. Eomer angrily tried in vain to shove down the rebellious ache that washed upward through his chest. This was no way for the Third Marshal of the Ridermark to feel.

A few lingering soldiers watched in baffled confusion as their leader stormed out of the keep, wearing an expression that would make a warg think twice about nearing him.

The sun outside was wonderful on Maylin's face, melting away the icy layers of fear and anxiety that had formed over her features. She had feared that she would never see the lightened sky again as she huddled in a trembling heap below the earth. But now she felt free, and her spirit flew about over the rocky terrain, marveling in the openness around her.

Jack was checking over his harp beside her, which he had finally rescued from its dank prison in the caves, checking for any possible damage. His mind had been perfectly at ease since Legolas told them that Leigh was safe, and had survived the battle in one piece. Knowing her, she would be popping her blonde head up around the corner any minute now.

She didn't disappoint him, within two minutes, her beaming face shot into view around the rocks.

"Jack," she asked, plopping down next to him. "What was your count?"

"Twenty-two," he said a proud tone.

"Not bad," Maylin smirked. "I got thirty-one." Jack sighed.

"And you, Leigh?" Jack asked.

"Oh..." she trailed off, looking at nothing. "... thirty-seven..."

"Blast," Maylin laughed. "The archers never win!"

"You probably would have if you hadn't gotten conked out," Jack pointed out.

"What am I missing?" Leigh demanded.

"Some Uruks decided to play mean, hid and jumped me when I went looking for arrows," Maylin explained.

"And who exactly got you out of that one?" Leigh asked, she suspected Eomer.

"I don't know actually," she confessed, earning a very surprised look from her friend. "I just woke up and I was in the caves..."

"You guardian angel must have been looking out for you," Jack said.

"Maybe..."

Legolas tore over to where Aragorn was standing, conferring with the other leaders.

"Aragorn!"

Aragorn raised a hand asking for a moment longer, but Legolas had no time for courtesy.

"Aragorn, it cannot wait!"

With a slightly interested look, his human friend quirked his eyebrows, bowed out of the conference and walked over where Legolas stood in an anxious wreck.

"What is it, my friend?" Aragorn asked with concern.

"Haldir has been slain," Legolas whispered to avoid others over hearing the statement.

"I know," a shadow fell over Aragorn's eyes. "I was there when he fell."

"How are we to tell Maylin?" Legolas demanded. A frown settled over Aragorn's features. "You know as well as I do that they had feelings for each other."

"I do not know..." Aragorn sighed. "But she must be told... now."

The two walked together in silence, not wishing to speak of the awful news they were bearing to one so dear to them, news that might break her heart. They finally found Maylin happily conversing with the other two of the Four present. She looked so happy...

"Maylin," Aragorn said slowly, sitting down beside the young Elf woman.

"What is it?" Maylin asked, looking rapidly between the two news-bearers. "What has happened? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Maylin..." Aragorn struggled to force his tongue to obey him. "... Haldir has fallen. I was with him in the end... I am sorry."

"That can't be," Maylin shook her head rabidly. "It isn't true!"

"It is true, Maylin," Legolas said. He looked deep into her eyes and for a split second seemed to feel the chaos that was tearing her apart. "Haldir is gone."

Maylin tore her eyes away from his with a cry of sheer pain and dashed away along the wall. Legolas rose to stop her, but Aragorn firmly placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him square in the eye.

"The time will come for comforting, Legolas," he told him. "But right now there is nothing you or I could do to ease her suffering. Leave her be."

The future king then turned to the other two young people that he considered to be in his care. They were staring after Maylin, obviously wanting to help, but shocked to the core by the awful news, and frozen to the rocks below. He levelly met Leigh's gaze, and, after a few moments had passed, nodded his consent to her silent plea to go after her friend. She was off like a shot.

Jack leapt up to go with her, but Aragorn blocked his path as well.

"Jack, this is not the time for any of us," he told him. "Women have their own ways, and only they understand each other fully. It is not wise for us to interfere before the proper time. Give Maylin a little time, and then go to her by all means. She will need us in the end."

Gimli had waited patiently for the horselord to finish his dealings with the men and his King, standing just far enough away to not be a nuisance, but close enough to let Eomer know he was waiting his turn. At long last he was done with the endless talks and turned with a tired smile to his Dwarvish friend. But eh expression on the Dwarf's face made him pause for a moment, it was not a warm smile or a jesting grin, this was a serious matter.

"Horse master," Gimli sighed, leaning on his axe, "I have seen much of the world in my time, and have gained a meager gathering of knowledge. I think I need to share some of it with you at the moment."

"By all means," Eomer nodded, "please, continue!"

"An issue has come to my attention... that needs some looking into," Gimli paused again. "I do not know exactly what your feelings are for lady Leigh, but I must ask that you do not pursue them. This is not meant as an insult, but merely a request from a caring friend of both parties. She has feelings for Lord Boromir, as if the world hasn't noticed, and I ask that you do not meddle with that. His feelings run deeply for her as well, and a heart broken warrior is never good news. A war between Gondor and Rohan would also not be a good thing..."

"You really think he would go that far?" Eomer laughed.

"He would," Gimli nodded. "I notice you didn't say _you_ wouldn't."

"To follow the orders of my heart," Eomer raised his head proudly, "I would do anything."

"All I ask is that you pay some heed to my advice," Gimli sighed. "That is all I have to say."

Legolas looked up as a frantic Leigh burst into the room. Her hair was a wreck, and her eyes were wild with fear.

"Where is Maylin, have you seen her?" Leigh demanded.

"No I have not," Legolas frowned, "not since she ran off along the wall."

"Well I haven't either," Leigh moaned. "She just vanished, and I don't think she's quite in her right mind at the moment. I'm scared, scared that she's going to do something stupid."

"Find Aragorn and tell him what you have told me," Legolas told her hastily, stepping around her and out the door. "I shall continue the search 'til then!"

Stars. Stars above, stars below, stars beside, stars between. The heavens had just begun to reveal their precious jewels, glittering like white diamonds thrown on high that had stuck in the velvety blackness. It was lovely... why couldn't she join it? Why couldn't she reach them?

Maylin reached her hands up above her head, standing on the highest point of the fort she had been able to find, trying to reach up and grab onto the saving light of the stars. They winked at her, encouraged her, teased her, invited her. The seemed to sing down to her, asking her to join them in the heights above the earth, where all was light, all was good, all was joy.

Then she crashed back down onto the unforgiving stone of reality, and collapsed into a sobbing mess. Haldir was gone, he who had first opened her eyes to the stars above, to the unique brilliance that only they possessed. He was like the stars now: unreachable. Forever beyond her grasp. She would never die like her friends and go to join him, she would sit there, on the cold, dark stones of the earth and watch the stars for eternity. Perhaps immortality was a curse after all, the curse of the Elves. Always to seek, but never to find, always to reach, but never to grasp. She wasn't sure what love was, but she believed that it was what she had felt for and with Haldir, a bond that connected them to the stars.

A knife was cradled in her hand, holding open a gate to the stars. It reflected the stars in a cold, metallic reflection, devoid of the love of the beams of light, but showing the facts, plain and true, a sharp reminder of reality.

Grimly, Maylin raised the knife outwards, away from herself, almost as if to put as much distance between it and her body as possible. Oh, but the stars! They were singing to her, calling her.

'Come up! Come up!' they laughed. 'Come and see him again, he is here.'

The knife gleamed in icy calling, inviting her to use it as her means of reaching eternity, eternity with him. As long as it received its pay it was happy, oh yes, it was happy. Blood, only the warm blood of life could appease it, but never quench it. It was always thirsty, always wanting more, seeking the red liquor that was spilled upon it by men. How much better an Elf who's blood was never dying, meant to flow forever? All the better, all the better.

All the pain, all the heart ache surged through Maylin and took control over her. A blinding grief washed down over her and she ran her finger along the blade, admiring its sharpness, thinking of the possibilities it could bestow.

With an eerily calm hand, she aimed the knife.

Suddenly there were arms around her, pulling the knife away from her hand, and holding her tightly against a rapidly beating heart.

"Maylin," the figure breathed her name. "Stop."

The girl broke down in his arms and collapsed, crying all of the tears that had been locked behind her eyes of flint. All the emotions that had plagued her crashed through her, tearing her heart lose and tearing at her mind. Anguish was mixed with fear, grief was mixed with shock, and she cried them out into the arms of her savior.

"He is not in the stars," Leoglas whispered to her. "They cannot tell you where he's gone. But they are there, they watch the world unfold, and they are stead fast, ever moving, yet never changing."

Maylin tilted her head up to look into his face and in his eyes... she saw the stars.

A/N: DID YOU LIKE IT! Please let me know your feelings, thoughts, and other odd remarks by reviewing! Thanks a bundle, and, once again, happy birthday, Elsir!


	23. Lights Within

Disclaimer: I own only the Four and not really even them because I can't make money off of them... so no, I don't own the Lord of the Rings. You're really funny, you know that?

A/N: Hello again my friends! Long time no update, I know, I'm bad, but I was also gone the entire weekend, so I have a partial excuse, ha! I would like to thank my loverly reviewers for their bountiful reviews! In answer to the question asked (wouldn't they know Haldir was going to die?) the answer is: maybe. You see, they already knew that they had changed the plot a good deal, so thing might be completely different, and largely, they were simply too busy staying alive to pay all that much attention. Anyways, this bit focuses entirely on Jaden and her little groupie. Things might differ slightly from the books, but not much, like there might be a couple extra days or something unimportant like that, I have to get creative with her part of the journey. Enjoy, see you at the end!

Lights Within

A sickening little _squelch_ sounded beneath Jaden's foot. Just perfect, now she would spend the next several minutes just trying to jerk her leg free.

It had been several hours since they'd entered the marshes and thrown themselves under Smeagol's power. Should he decide to try to break his oath, they would be at lost in the Dead Marshes with no way of knowing which step was treacherous, which was safe. These conditions had thrown Sam into a nice little fit. Every other minute Jaden heard him muttering under his breath about the 'filthy, sneakin' little creature'. This didn't really help her mood.

Smeagol scuttled over to the struggling teen and stated in his blunt fashion, "Jaden must be careful, yes, Precious, otherwise the bog will swallow her, yes. Must not let Jaden be swallowed by the mud!"

"Oh, I'm not going to be 'swallowed by the mud'," Jaden sighed. "Just a careless step is all."

"Careless steps will be death of Jaden," Smeagol warned. "And then who will speak riddles with Smeagol? Poor Smeagol will have no fun, be all alone, poor Smeagol!"

"When I fall into the marsh and die, you can mourn me," Jaden told him. "Until then, stop it."

Smeagol sighed and muttered dark prophecies of Jaden's impending doom as he slunk back to the lead in front of Frodo.

"I believe he does have a point though, Jaden," Frodo told her in his quiet voice. "We should all be a bit more careful where we step for the next few days. It would do no good for one of us to drown out here."

The rest of that day dragged on with no other incidents worthy of Smeagol's worry. At night they flopped over on the driest patch of ground they could find and chased after sleep.

Jaden turned restlessly, unable to calm her worries about the others of the Four she had left to face their fates as best they could. A nagging voice in her mind spread guilt through her anxious soul over her actions. Who was she to try and run the story? Wasn't that what Sauron was trying to do? 'I'm not Sauron,' she thought to herself firmly. 'I'm not changing the story, I'm just trying to make sure it stays the way it should.' The voice persisted in pestering her though for the next hour or so until she abandoned all hopes of a peaceful night's sleep. With a muffled grunt, she sat up and pulled her knees up under her chin.

"Why aren't you asleep, Jaden?" Frodo whispered. He also was clearly awake and sat cross-legged about two yards away from Jaden on a patch of dry grass.

"Mind won't shut up." Frodo chuckled.

"I know that feeling... except that I suppose it isn't really _my mind_ that keeps me awake..." he trailed off with a sigh and looked up towards the stars. "It seems we both bear burdens heavier than we can fully manage."

"Fate," Jaden stated, "has a nasty way of doing that to people like us."

"Well you obviously know what haunts my mind," Frodo looked back over at her, "so I think it fair that I should know what troubles you."

"It's complicated..."

"What about this quest isn't?"

"It... it has to do with some things I saw in the Mirror of Galadriel," Jaden hesitantly confessed. Frodo lifted his eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. "I saw... bad things.. happening to some of my friends, and... and I just wonder if I made the right choice by coming on this path."

"Which friends?"

"Oh, several... you were one of them actually," Jaden said. "Aragorn was another... and then there were Leigh and Maylin."

"What happened?"

"Leigh was... beaten and a captive. Maylin committed suicide... I shouldn't really tell you what I saw for those of you who are truly a part of this story... it might change the balance of something..."

"Jaden," Frodo slid over and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I do not know what will become of those that you saw in the Mirror, but I do know that I am glad you came with us." Jaden looked up with misty eyes. "And I believe that there is some purpose to your being with us, something that not even you know of yet."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Jay."

Jaden spotted the lights first... at least she thought she was the first, it was hard to tell since no one was really talking, just trudging along through the awful marshes. The first light seemed almost hesitant to appear, as if checking the area first, like a scout. After that they appeared more than one at a time and seemed to float carelessly around in a whimsical migration. Swiftly, Jaden forced her eyes away from them, noticing that her feet had begun to stray from the path, and not in the mood for meeting with a slow, watery death. They continued on in such a manner until Sam couldn't keep it in any longer.

"What's all this, Gollum?" he asked, shattering the silence even though it was nothing more than a whisper. "All these lights? They're all around us now. Are we trapped? Who are they?"

"Tricksy lights," Smeagol hissed as he scampered back and forth in front of a large pool of dark water, seeking a way across. "Candles of corpses, yes, yes. Don't look! Don't follow them!"

Jaden shuddered in silent fear and disgust at the dead, twisted things that sought to draw them away to the path and into the bog. Tricksy indeed, they danced about everywhere, it was next to impossible to look up without seeing one This made it all the more likely to get caught up in staring at one of the ghostly shapes. They seemed to seek the lives of those passing through the marshes like an addict seeks out his drugs; wanting yet not wanting, desperately searching for yet very much afraid of. What had these souls possibly done in their lives to render such a sad, eternal existence? The wavering lights floated and danced in and out, in and out, twirling on unseen or felt winds.

"Where's the master?" Smeagol asked.

Sam struggled back through the mist that had engulfed them and looked for his master in the mysterious fog.

'Oh come on, Jaden," she chastised herself. 'Stop being superstitious. This is a marsh. Marshes are generally foggy. It's not as if the lights are trying to get us to lose our way on purpose... Oh stop that!'

A frightened and appalled cry jarred her back to reality.

"There are dead things, dead faces in the water!" Sam cried. "Dead faces!"

Gollum laughed at the Hobbit's fear. "The Dead Marshes, yes, yes: that is their name. You should not look in when the candles are lit."

"Who are they?" Sam shuddered. "What are they?"

"Dead Men, Elves.. A few Orcs..." Jaden informed him. "Remember your history. There was a battle fought here long ago during the Last Alliance."

"All dead now," Gollum nodded in agreement, "all rotting. The marshes have grown since then, swallowed up the graves; always creeping, always creeping."

"Surely the bodies can't still truly be there!" Sam frowned. "That was more than an age ago! Is it some devilry hatched in the Dark Land?"

"Who knows? Smeagol does not know," Smeagol shrugged, obviously not really caring. "You cannot reach them, cannot touch them. We tried once, but you cannot reach them. Only to see and not to touch."

Jaden wrinkled her nose in disgust as reasons as to why Gollum would try to touch those nasty carcasses filed through her mind. None of them were pleasant. A trill of pity slipped through the back of her mind as she thought of poor Smeagol, he had endured starvation and such drastic and disgusting measures as well.

"Well I don't want to see them," Sam shuddered, thinking along the same lines. "Never again! Can't we get on and get away?"

"Yes, yes," Gollum said. "But slowly, very slowly. Very carefully! Or Hobbits and Jaden will go down to join the Dead ones and light little candles. Follow Smeagol! And don't look at the lights!"

The mere that had stymied Gollum proved a trouble to the others as well. It was impossible to play the treacherous game of hop-scotch that was necessary without occasionally falling or slipping into the awful bog around the little grassy islands they leapt to. Stagnant cess pools gulped at their feet like hungry mouths and slimy water coated each of the travelers up to the neck.

Jaden idly wondered what it would be like to be like Smeagol/Gollum, to have two personalities dueling it out for dominance. It wasn't quite schizophrenia, it was more like the original Smeagol and the remnants of the Ring that had been imprinted on his mind and in his soul. Both sides were obsessed with the 'Precious' but seemed to have different feelings for it. Half feared it terribly, the other half sought after it blindly, not caring who was hurt, what was destroyed, just so long as he could hold it for one moment... it was so sad.

As her mind wandered so did her eyes. At first the objects her gaze drifted to were harmless enough, rocks, grass, lots of mucky swamp. But after awhile, her eyes began admiring the strange lights that still drifted around them. They were like a welcoming committee, Jaden thought. Another more sensible part of her asked, 'A welcoming party for what?' But she was too far gone to heed it. The wisps of brilliance contrasted so beautifully with the darkness of the water below, it was just perfect... too perfect. They swirled, danced, beckoned to her from just over the black waters, entreating. It seemed so easy to just step slightly off of the path Smeagol was blazing just to touch one of the pretty lights... just one, just for a moment.

_Splash!_

The world was suddenly dark and wet and cold. Water wrapped like icy limbs around her body, freezing her heart, making it slow... slower, slower... A light was coming from her now, from her heart and Jaden suddenly remembered what Gollum had said.

She fought with wild ferocity against the freezing hands that were squeezing her heart to a stop. Why hadn't she paid attention! Now she was going to die. She was too young to die! A cliche but true! She had no idea what she was meant for here in Middle Earth, but she was relatively certain that it wasn't to drown in the Dead Marshes and become a floating little light that tried to lure beings to their deaths.

All of a sudden, wiry arms clenched around her torso and she was propelled up out of the water and onto one of the little dry islands of turf and grass. Gollum stared down at her with anxious and reprimanding eyes.

"Jaden will be the death of herself," Smeagol told both her and himself. "Don't follow the lights. Candles are not so pretty when you are one." Then he scampered away again to seek out the trail ahead.

"Jaden!" Frodo exclaimed, coming over to her quickly. "Are you alright?"

"I am now," Jaden replied, still catching her breath. "Just got a bit absent minded... seems to be an issue with me."

"Please be more careful," Frodo pleaded.

"Oh, trust me I will," Jaden agreed with a wide-eyed nod.

Later that night a sharp wind blew up and Gollum began peering around anxiously, sniffing the air as if for a scent of something. The Hobbits and Jaden were simply thankful for the fresher air that the wind blew to them, breathing deeply of it and looking up at the stars that had been cleared of clouds by the same fresh wind. The first sign that all was not well was that the lights of the 'candles' winked out like nightlights. They actually took that as a good sign at first, but the thought didn't cross their minds that the specters might be fleeing from an evil greater than themselves.

Suddenly they saw what so aggravated Smeagol: a dark, fell shape was coming towards them from the hills of Mordor, flying like a black cloud in the new moonlight. It shrieked its ghastly cry and the companions below it in the Marshes fell to the ground in heedless huddles, wits chased away by the terror of the fell thing swooping above them.

It went on towards the west, and for a moment they thought that they were safe again from it, that they hadn't been seen after all. But then it wheeled and flew low over the reeking bogs. With a final, shattering scream, it rode off back to the dark land from which it had come and was gone.

"Wraiths!" Smeagol wailed. "Wraiths on wings! The Precious is their master. They see everything, everything. Nothing van hide from them. Curse the White Face! And they tell Him everything. He sees, He knows. Ach, _gollum, gollum_!"

Jaden scooted over to where Smeagol was huddled with his flat hands covering his head and slowly placed a careful hand on his shoulder. It felt like she was comforting a small child after a nightmare, she thought. Except she shared this nightmare, and it scared her too.

"It's gone now, Smeagol," she comforted him. "It's gone back, I don't think it saw us."

"_Gollum, gollum_."

It wasn't until the moon had gone that Gollum would stir from his groveling heap.

The next day the three volunteer heros all fell into differing degrees of sleep, worn and tired from not only the treachery of the marshes, but also from the fear of the dark shape that had shaken them all to the core.

While they slept, Gollum and Smeagol slunk a short distance off and held a council with themselves.

"What was Smeagol doing, we asks him?" Gollum hissed to his other self. "What was he doing risking his own neck for 'Jaden'? Hmm? We have ourselves to look after, that's enough for us, no more!"

"But Jaden is our friend," Smeagol pleaded. "She is nice to us, yes, precious, yes! Speaks riddles with us, says nice things, takes nasty rope off of us."

"She does not like you," Gollum hooted. "One moment you will turn to see that's she's gone off again, and then where will you be? Whining and crying your pathetic little heart out, yes precious! Not for us, no, friends are not for us. No one likes you!"

"Jaden is our _friend_," Smeagol insisted.

Gollum laughed cruelly. "She is like the lights, Smeagol, only to see and not to touch. Why would she ever be your friend?"

"Because she's kind," Smeagol whimpered.

"Kind and nice and pretty," Gollum said in a singsong tone. "All too good for Smeagol!"

"We'll just see," Smeagol sniffed defensively. "Jaden is better than Gollum thinks. _Smeagol_ is better than Gollum thinks."

"Oh yes, we'll see, we'll see," Gollum cackled.

"Jaden is my friend," declared Smeagol stoutly.

"Whatever the Smeagol says," Gollum mocked.

A/N: It's me again! Here's to all of my awsome reveiwers once agian! But I beg this from those of you who haven't reviewed: REVIEW! I have a pretty little thing that tells me how many times people have 'hit' my story and on what chapters, so I KNOW you are reading this! Anonymous reviews are plenty welcome, I accept them just as well! Please review! The number of reviews I get just might influence how quickly I respond... and you all want to know about the other three of the Four and more about Jaden right? Review! I beg!


	24. Sparks of Dawn

Disclaimer: If I owned the Lord of the Rings I would say so... .I do not say so... so there.

A/N: READ THIS! Got your attention? Good. If you have read this say, "Boo" At the beginning of your review. By the way... review. Ah-hem. It is mostly my fault that it took so long to put this one up, but not entirely. First there were choir practices/contest, then a drama thingy (don't ask) and last but not least... I am sick. Not really bad, but enough to keep me from feeling like much typing. I have thought up an evil little idea to get more reviewers. Another fic popped in my head, and I am debating at seeing if I can write two at the same time. Don't panic! This fic will have dominancy, and I shall probably do a better job keeping up with it than I am now. But if a pitiful amount of reviews come in, then I will make a you wait a bit longer for the next update, even though it will probably be written anyway. Ha! If you like this fic, review, if you do not like this fic, review! I am more than open to critisism here! Alright, enough banter. See you at the end!

Sparks of Dawn

Jaden could sense rather than feel the growing shadow ahead of them. It lurked at the edge of her thoughts constantly, like a nagging wound that wouldn't heal. Idly she began to wonder just how impervious she was to the great evil that dwelled in Mordor. A shadowy wisp of doubt was beginning to nibble at her thoughts, poisoning her actions with uncertainty. Around her, the others began to share her feelings in their own hearts and minds. Jaden was a silent witness to Frodo's growing suffering. She said nothing to him about the great weight around his neck that sought to drag him to the ground to never move again. All she could offer him was her quiet companionship, her arm when he stumbled and her gaze when he needed reassurance. Sam had a primitive sense of the sprawling evil behind the mountains ahead of them, but he didn't feel it in his heart quite as strong as Jaden yet. As for Gollum, he showed nothing of what he felt to the others, he simply continued to lead them on, ever closer to the great, prodding Eye that he so passionately feared. Most likely he felt much heaviness as they continued forward, but his lips never uttered a word of his suffering, and the others took it as they chose.

Around them, the land changed from the decaying, unwholesome swamp to a parched, dead land that blotched the earth like a leprous segment of skin. Nothing grew, the only signs of life were the swaths of dead, crumbling peat from the slinking Marshes and even they dropped away completely after a little while. Little water still remained there, and what was left was clogged with white and grey mud and ash in its flagging pools. Huge, pointed mounds of once great rocks towered over them in powdered hills that reminded Jaden a bit too much of the color of cremated ashes.

"I feel sick," Sam shuddered. So did the others, except perhaps Gollum.

They stood now on the brink of the desolation that spread out before the high walls of Mordor. The poisons of the Black Land seemed to have seeped through some unknown crevice and ravished the land before the Black Gates, giving all a small preview of what devastation lied behind those massive doors that led to the birthplace of death and doom.

When the sun came, the distorted and mutilated scenery around them was exposed in its unwelcome light. With its coming, the pitiful band of travelers sought shelter from the light of day. It seemed now that even the sun was an enemy, throwing aside the veils of night and pointing them out to the seeking Eye in its tower of Barad-dur. They sought to hide from its face now as Gollum did and eventually found themselves cowering in the bottom of a filthy pit, ankle deep in a multi-colored ooze that remained from some foul concoction or had seeped like poisoned blood from the land itself into the open pore of the pit. Neither thought brought the companions much ease, so they did what they were beginning to excel at: they decided not to think about it, or anything else for that matter, at all.

Jaden's heart beat like a sullen lump of lead in her chest and she heaved a sigh as she rested her head against the wall of the pit they were hiding in. Thankfully, she was high enough up the slope to not be touching the nameless stuff gathered at the bottom, but that only eased her mind to a certain extent. Her heart and mind were in turmoil. Had she made the right choice? Was she just a liability to Frodo and Sam after all? Most importantly, would she be able to handle what she knew lie ahead?

A thought dimly dawned in her mind and she fumbled tiredly with the straps of her pack. Fishing out her journal, she flipped it open and readied her writing supplies. Smeagol lifted his head from where he was lying in a curled-up lump.

"What does the Jaden do?" he asked. "What does she do with flat-tree stuff and black shiny stuff?"

"Letting out my frustrations," Jaden smiled grimly as she flipped open the book to where she had last written. Neither Gollum nor Smeagol asked anymore questions and she let her thoughts and pen absorb her.

_It has been far too long since the last time I wrote in this I think. We have come to the land just before the Black Gates, between us there is nothing but the reeking land that Sauron has twisted and ravaged. Now we are not nearly so dependant on Gollum and Smeagol as we were in the Dead Marshes, but he is still so vital to our cause. _

_To be perfectly honest, I am afraid. Not that there's anything unusual in that, but this is more than what I've gone through before. What I saw in the Mirror pops up every time I try to sleep and I am constantly worried that, despite Frodo's reassurances, I made the wrong choice in joining him and will become a liability. There are so many 'what ifs' and 'might possiblys' shrieking through my head that I often stumble over obvious obstacles in my path, or don't even hear Sam when he says something to me. It scares me that I might be losing my edge, if I ever even had one that is._

_What frightens me more is the Dark presence that is constantly looming in the back of my head like some unshakeable shadow that follows me. I know that He must be looking for me, that is the only explanation. Sam doesn't seem to quite know what it is that I'm feeling, and I know that what I'm going through is nothing compared to what Frodo must be enduring even now. The thought has crossed my mind that something has happened to the others, especially the other three of the Four that would compromise this quest. Even if nothing has happened yet, something might. Only now am I realizing that Frodo and Sam must trust their friends as firmly as they did while they were with them in person, because one single slip of the tongue from any of them could spell doom and disaster. But I come back to my original meaning for this thought: He is looking for me. He doesn't know quite where to look, but he is searching. It is very scary to know that I'm on His wish list or whatever right alongside the Ring itself. I now remember what Leigh said near the beginning of our time here. "We are prophets now," or something to that extent. I don't think the weight of those words fully hit me until recently. Walking all day with little or no conversation gives a person a lot of time to think._

_To my great annoyance, my thoughts are now drifting homeward. A small part of me laughs that I'm picking up on how these people speak, my English teacher would be dancing for joy. Back home I would have just graduated from high school I think, or at least recently, give me a break ok? I'm I bit foggy on the dates around here at the moment. Maylin would be moving out of her dorm with Leigh and I'd just be moving in, I remember how we planned that, how we were going to decorate and everything. Our annual movie night would have taken place a few months ago I think. Jack would still be in high school, maybe learning to drive. Wow. This is weird._

_If anyone ever reads this, which I partly hope they won't because that would be the most embarrassing thing in the world, I hope you tell Bilbo thank you for me. I know I already thanked him when he first gave me this journal, but it's come to be the place that I can just spill my guts on everything. Oh yes, and if you can show this to my dearest friends Leigh and Maylin so they can have a good laugh: this is all written mostly in Elvish. Haha, I did learn something from them after all!_

_I think I can sleep now, so I'll call it a night, or a day, or whatever and close this book now. Sam's nodding off too. One last truly random thought: it feels really weird speaking to people that are so much shorter than you are and treating them as your elders._

Sam blinked groggily. Had Frodo called him? He'd thought Frodo had called him, that was the only reason he'd bothered stirring... Then he heard the voices.

This was the second time he had heard Slinker and Stinker debating together. It was also the second time that he had believed it to be Frodo. All of his thoughts were twisted and confused by this awful, acid-drenched land and he didn't like it, he didn't like it one bit. This gave Gollum far too much of an advantage.

Angrily thrusting his thoughts aside, he tuned his ears to the conversation being held off to his left.

"What will do we do then, Precious?" Gollum hissed in annoyance. "Stop the Pale Face from rising and the Bright Face as well? There is as much chance of that happening as saving one and getting rid of the others!"

"No, no, no," Smeagol shook his head in child-like resoluteness. "Isn't so tricksy, isn't so hard. We will show you, yes, Precious, we'll just show you!"

"So it's _nice_," Gollum persisted, "but it is still not _us_. We must look out only for _us_."

"_It_ is a _she_," Smeagol sniffed, "and _her_ name is Jaden."

"'She' is still not us!"

"I don't care," Smeagol pouted.

Sam frowned. What was that devil doing talking about Jaden? At least one of the sides liked her...

"You don't care?" Gollum asked in something a lot like shock. "You don't _care?_ Has the heat finally gotten through to pathetic little Smeagol? _We_ come first. You have to care."

"Don't you like her then?" Smeagol simpered.

"Of course I do you silly, stringy-haired numbskull," Gollum hissed. "She is nice, she is kind. But _we_ are still first."

"She could _be_ one of us," Smeagol suggested.

Gollum cackled at that.

"Poor stupid little Smeagol," he laughed. "She _can't_ be one of us. We are the only us. There can be no more."

"But you still admit you like her."

"Yes..."

"And she likes us! I know she does! She smiles and laughed for the first few days, before things got awful, and she speaks riddles, Precious, riddles!" Smeagol babbled excitedly. "She's too good for _her_ to have, far too nice. We can take care of her, please! We can show her how to fish, and catch birdses, and she can stay with us! When we have the Precious all will be happy and good! And Jaden can stay with us and asks us riddles and answer our riddleses!"

"Smeagol and his daydreams," Gollum sighed. "If we can we will not let _her_ get the Jaden. But only if it doesn't put us at risk, Precious! _Gollum, Gollum!_"

The two voices fell quiet and Sam slipped into his own thoughts again, digesting what he had overheard. That day, when they had come to Black Gates, Jaden had kept looking up and over her shoulder all the time, like she sensed someone or something following her. It had disturbed him... and worried him. Jaden was his friend, and he had come to view her as a close companion, almost as close as Frodo. He had silently wished that he had at least one daughter like Jay. Now she was in danger, he could see it by looking in her eyes: she felt something, something hunting for her, and now Sam, her friend, wanted to help and protect her to the best of his abilities.

Earlier that day, Jaden had been quiet and solemn as Gollum mentioned the other path. Sam often wondered what exactly it meant when she went like that, whether it was a foreshadowing of what she knew of the road ahead, or whether she was simply worried like the rest of them. He leaned towards the first one though. A shadowy malice now flitted through his thoughts whenever he considered the path their slinking guide was now leading them to.

A part of him was silently and deeply thankful that Slinker and Stinker both 'liked' Jaden well enough to want her to be safe, but another side of his mind didn't like how the little bugger carried on about her with himself, it just didn't feel right... or safe. And what was it he was going to protect her from anyways? They had mentioned that misty 'she' again, and Sam wondered for the ten thousandth time just who 'she' was.

Aragorn watched from a shadowed corner as Legolas finally reappeared with Maylin in his arms. The moment Leigh had come in, gasping the news, he had known. Once again, the Elf had been correct about the young woman's feelings.

His friend caught his gaze and smiled softly, telling him that all was well. Then Legolas's attention returned to the woman he was caring for and he continued onwards.

A small smile twitched at the corner of Aragorn's lips. A slight bit of the burden he carried lifted from his mind with joy. He had begun to wonder ever since Lothlorien what would happen to the Four when the war was over. If they lost, then he really had no need to worry, but he honestly believed that they still had a chance, especially now that Saruman's dark horde was annihilated. With victory though would come a new threat to the young people he had come to take under his wing: what would they do and who would take care of them? All of them would technically be able to live just fine through the generosity of the peoples they had saved, but not all of them would want such a life as that. Jaden might be able to accept such a life, knowing that she had done more than enough to earn it, but he wasn't so sure about the others. It now seemed that Maylin had a suitor that would happily care for her for all of eternity. Jack was a strong young lad, and he claimed to have learned how to use that harp that he now toted about with him devotedly so he would be more than welcome in any court (preferably his own where he could keep an eye on him) as a bard or something of that sort. This did depend on his newfound skill though. Leigh was a wild card. It couldn't be more obvious that she had feelings for Boromir, and that they were returned with interest, but there was a shadow in his mind concerning those two that he hadn't quite put his finger on yet, and it worried him greatly.

"What I wonder could so distract the future king of Gondor?"

Aragorn jerked his head around to face the smirking grin of Gandalf. "Just... thoughts," he sighed.

"I did assume that," Gandalf chuckled. "You were worrying about the Four weren't you?"

"Yes," Aragorn admitted. "I fear what might become of them when this war ends... if it ever does."

"It will."

"I know," sighed Aragorn, "I apologize. I shouldn't have said that."

"We all have our worries, Aragorn," Gandalf said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "And yours are more than justified."

"I do not suppose you intend to clarify that," Aragorn laughed.

"No."

Stars were winking down from above when Leigh started awake. She couldn't have been asleep long; she'd only gone after Legolas and Aragorn when the sun had started setting. An angry yawn rent her face and she let her head bang back against the malicious stone she had fallen asleep on. There would be a few unhappy Fellowship members if they found out she hadn't slept all day... very unhappy Fellowship members actually.

"I caught you," Boromir taunted as he stepped around a corner. Leigh managed a tired smile. "Somehow I get the distinct impression that you didn't sleep today."

"I just woke up," she informed him.

"Ah yes," Boromir nodded sagely. "And people who wake up from a good slumber always have circles under their eyes."

"Oh drat!" Leigh muttered. Boromir laughed and sat beside her, letting her use his shoulder as a pillow. "Who told you, Legolas or Aragorn?"

"Aragorn," Boromir snorted. "Legolas was rather... occupied."

"He's still with her then?" Leigh smiled as her eyes closed.

"He hasn't left her side," Boromir's voice rumbled. "I believe she's sleeping at the moment."

"Lucky her," Leigh sighed. A gloved hand cupped her chin and turned her face up to look Boromir in the face.

"You should take better care of yourself."

"I know."

They stayed like that for a few minutes and Leigh felt herself start to drift off. Then Boromir let out a heavy sigh.

"We must go," he told her quietly, running a hand over her hair. "The others will be waiting for us."

"Alright," Leigh grudgingly agreed.

The strong warrior helped her rise from the cold stones that she had been resting on and supported her down the steps that were moving strangely in Leigh's confused vision. A few of the Rohirrim hid smirks or displayed them openly as they watched the woman who had fought so fiercely the night before be half carried by the Gondorian. One of them, however, watched just as keenly, but without amusement.

The moment they were in sight, Jack threw his hands up in mute frustration at Leigh's condition.

"You are incapable of doing what's best for you," Jack informed her tartly as Boromir swung her up onto the horse next to Jack's.

"So I've been told," Leigh snickered.

"What has she done now?" Maylin demanded, striding shakily towards them.

"She has neglected sleep to hunt for you," Aragorn said, already fully mounted and prepared.

"Oh," Maylin blinked. "I'm sorry."

"Don't even start," Leigh warned, seeing her friend's eyes getting unusually bright. "You have enough on your plate. Why are you even coming anyways?"

"I decided that she has recovered enough stamina to ride with us," Aragorn answered. "As many of the Four should be there as possible."

"Be...?" Leigh asked foggily.

"Isengard," Jack reminded her.

"Oh yeah."

"You don't look quite alright, Leigh. Are you sure _you_ should be going?" Aragorn asked.

"She can sleep on the way," Boromir assured him as he leaned the fading Leigh back against him. "She'll be her usual obnoxious self by the time we arrive."

Aragorn gave a short nod and then trotted off to where Gandalf and Theoden were waiting for him.

All around them, men and a meager handful of the remaining Elves were burying those who had fallen in the battle. Two large mounds had been raised for the Men of Rohan, and a third was being covered for the Elves of Lorien who had died there. The faces of the workers were a strange mix of solemnity and joy. They now were laying their dear friends, brothers and fathers under the earth to rest forever, but they themselves had survived. Now they didn't know whether to laugh in relief or cry over the dead bodies of their kinsmen. It was a grey sight, torn between fledgling hope and bitter sorrow.

Leigh had witnessed the burial of the Elves. Something had screamed inside her as she watched the mutilated bodies being gathered in by the steady arms of the Rohirrim and graceful limbs of the Elves. She had known or at least seen many of these Elves during their stay in Lothlorien. These souls had not been meant to die, not here, not ever, and certainly not in such awful ways. After awhile she had joined in the work herself, taking a break from her hunt for Maylin. Half of the 'bodies' that were buried were cleaved off arms or hands, identified solely by the armor they wore. A couple times Leigh almost lost her grip and anything she might have eaten for the past day or so. But somehow she kept herself under control, learning to almost ignore the bloody messes she was covering.

The moment had finally come that she had dreaded she would have to face: she saw Haldir's body carried over towards the growing pile by a procession of Elves. No one had needed to say anything as they turned away from the mound and walked a short ways off. It was only fitting that he should have a grave unto himself, the Rohirrim had done the same for one of their own, Hama, who had fallen by the Gate. Leigh thanked the Valar that Maylin hadn't been there to watch as they dug out a hole in the ground for the once fair Elf. Four of the Elves remained standing as the others worked, holding their captain aloft, above the ground, as if he were a flag that couldn't touch the ground, either that or they were merely trying in their minds to postpone the time until he was one with the earth below.

As Leigh turned around to look back at Helm's Deep, she saw the stone walls as the red light of sunset struck them, and it looked to her as if there was blood staining the lighter sections of the rock. Blood dripped in her foggy mind's eye from the spear points of the guards along the wall, and it sat in great puddles near where the wall had been blasted. The mounds that held the groaning dead in their hearts shed tears of red that rolled down their sides, weeping with the blood of their occupants. From a single grave under the stars there seemed to sprout a black tree, and from its branches fell red flowers that splattered like bloody teardrops on the ground with impact. Blood, blood, blood, a fortress dripping with blood. Blood, blood, blood, mounds weeping with blood. Blood, blood, blood, and one black tree with its flowers of red blood.

Gimli muttered incoherently under his breath. Yes, Eomer was a good lad, an honest lad, but he was an awfully headstrong lad as well. A slight rift had come between the two after Gimli had confronted him about Leigh, and now it seemed Eomer intended on torturing the Dwarf as payback. The able horselord had been wheeling his horse about, letting them drift back a ways and then charging up to the front again, anything he could possibly do to set the Dwarf on edge.

"Are you uneasy, master Dwarf?" Eomer asked innocently.

"Uneasy?" Gimli rumbled. "I am stuck on a horse with a mad horselord out for my blood. I'll leave you to find the answer there."

"Have I been trying to dislodge you then?" Eomer asked, once again far too innocently.

"No, you've been working on scaring me half to death and showing off at the same time."

"I can't think of what you could possibly mean."

Gimli growled in agitated anger. Boromir had better do _something_ and do it soon, otherwise there would quite possibly be one less Dwarf in Middle Earth.

Legolas seemed to notice little or nothing of the young lord's antics, but he did (thankfully) strike up a conversation with Gimli, which disenabled Eomer from continuing his torments.

He knew it wasn't really fair to take out his frustration on the Dwarf, but he had to take it out on _something_ and there was nothing else nearby that he could use. Every time he saw that strange woman his head spun and his heart squeezed in on itself, like it was restraining itself. There was nothing he would have liked better than to just go off into some quiet place where no Man, Elf or any other being that drew breath dwelt and scream out his confusion and anger. The Rohirrim might not have the strict emotional restraints of such places as Gondor and the realms of the Elves, but they usually didn't let their personal feelings interfere with their duties in life.

'And what about her is interfering with your duties?' an annoying little voice asked in his head. 'Hmm?'

'It is beginning to put a barrier between myself and the Lord Boromir, a mighty ally of my people,' the sensible side answered.

'You haven't declared war on him have you?' the first voice asked again.

'Oh wonderful, now I'm talking to myself!'

Jaden sighed and rubbed her foot moodily. The stones seemed to be almost aiming for her feet, and it was annoying her. At least they were past the wasted lands before the Black Gate now and there were things growing and alive around them.

"We are in Ithilien," she commented as Frodo sat beside her.

"Yes," he agreed distantly. "It is good to see life again."

"Yes it is," Jaden grinned. "I wish I could see this place in the light of day though... I'm sure the colors would be something else... I miss them, colors I mean. Everything looks an awful lot like different shades of grey in the light of the moon."

"Roaches," Sam said vehemently.

"Pardon?" Jaden asked in confusion.

"That's what we've become," Sam muttered, "slinking, night-eyed roaches that skitter along at night."

"Nah," Jaden laughed. "Too big for roaches... and I don't think any of us are quite _that_ ugly."

Sam fell to muttering and Jaden leaned back and laughed at him. A smile tugged at Frodo's lips at that sound. How long had it been since they had laughed? It seemed that the woods of Ithilien had already begun to restore life back into their quest, something that they had all sorely needed. His eyes drifted over and came to rest on Jaden. The young woman had become thin during their short time together. Signs of hard wear on the body and mind and lack of nourishment were beginning to show. There were twin circles growing under her eyes at an alarmingly steady rate, bones could occasionally be seen through the ever diminishing layer of flesh above them, and Frodo had noticed that her feet seemed less sure than they once had. But the hardy twinkle in her eye was still fresh and strong, and glowed in support whenever he turned to her for help. She hadn't given up yet, so neither would he.

A/N: What did ya think? I didn't think this one was too good, but I never seem to know such things too well... please review. I'll judge whether or not to start the other story by you reviews on this chapter. Evil grin Mwahahahaha! Caugh, hack, choke


	25. Veiling Mists

Disclaimer: I only can wish that I owned the Lord of the Rings, the Princess Bride and Can You Hear, but I do not, and it is sad. I do however own the Four, and that makes me happy.

A/N: If you read this A/N write 'chubby bunnies' in your review. So far I have gathered that few people read these.. pity, slap happy authors can be great fun to read! Oh well, your loss. I have started the other fic. Gasp So if you want this one updated more, REVIEW more! I'll love you forever if you review on BOTH stories... but not everyone likes both of these things so... oh well, your loss. Enjoy the chapter!

Veiling Mists

"These trees..." Jack frowned, looking up above them into the rich, dark foliage that spread overhead.

"What about them?" Maylin asked from beside him, in front of Legolas. "You're not afraid of them like Gimli are you? What a waste."

"No, no it's not that," Jack hastily reassured her. "It's just that... In all my time in Lorien I thought I'd learned at least _something_ of trees..." Boromir chuckled. "... but these... are so strange. Beautiful but strange."

"Please continue, master Jack," Legolas encouraged.

"Well... in Lothlorien the Elves didn't harm the trees, but if they did I don't think the trees would have attacked them or anything... here they would," Jack laughed a bit uneasily. "There's this weird aura of power around them, if you understand me. It's more like their individuals than just plants that you can hack down and then grow a replica."

"Did you learn nothing from all the stuff Leigh and I drilled into your head?" Maylin demanded. "These trees are-"

"I know all that," said Jack, waving his hand off as if to ward away her lecture. "I guess I just wasn't expecting for it to feel like this."

"Feel like what?" Gandalf asked, dropping back so he was beside the chatting comrades.

"Like there are people all around me," Jack frowned. "Like the feeling you get when you walk into a room. It feels like there are eyes looking at me behind my back and I don't think I like it."

"It feel wonderful to me," Maylin sighed. "The trees really breathe here, and they can talk. They're living beings, not just the mindless plant life that's come to be everywhere else."

"I am very glad to hear your voice again, lady Maylin," Gandalf smiled gently.

"Indeed," Legolas agreed.

The elegant Elven prince looked down passively into Maylin's relaxed features. She was doing much better since he had found her, Leigh had said she was recovering from shock. There were dim circles under Maylin's eyes, and her skin seemed a bit duller than it usually was. Leigh had been unable to explain these, but Legolas had assured her that Maylin would recover and that she was not ill, as Leigh had blatantly worried. No, the only sickness Maylin had faced was a sickness of the heart, something that was healing even then. She would recover fully with time, perhaps she would become even better.

"Jack," Aragorn called back to him, "when do you think you shall display for us your new talent? You have piqued all of our curiosities now you know, including the Rohirrim's. I fear that their king will not let you leave this land without some demonstration of your abilities."

"I should never have said anything!" Jack shouted back.

Aragorn gave a devilish grin and yelled, "We are still waiting for your answer, young bard!"

"When I'm good and ready, how's that?" Jack quipped.

"That is fine," Aragorn said over his shoulder, "just so long as you do so before we leave the company of the king and his men!"

"Thrice blasted Rangers," Jack muttered under his breath.

"His tongue often wags faster than that of a bored high school girl," Maylin snickered.

"Jack's stealing my phrases," Leigh moaned.

"Sleeping Beauty's awake," Maylin taunted.

"Elfie, dearest," Leigh purred, "I think a hair's out of place, better call 911."

"That is so overused," Maylin rolled her eyes.

"Bothered you though," Leigh smirked.

"Aw, hush."

"So," Leigh drawled, "Anything interesting happen while I was out?"

"Trees, trees..." Jack paused. "Few more trees."

"Fascinating," Leigh looked around herself. "Anyone else feel like they just woke up in the Fire Swamp?" Jack snorted a laugh through his hand.

"Leigh!" Maylin cried in utter frustration.

"Just had to say it," she grinned.

"Not boggy enough though," Jack said decidedly.

"True," Leigh nodded. "And I have yet to see any ROUSes, quicksand or random puffs of fire."

"You two are intolerable," Maylin fumed.

"We'll be good, mommy," Leigh said meekly. Maylin glared at her in helpless fury as several of those riding with them, including Jack, laughed at Leigh's blatant teasing.

"You're a mean little thing," Boromir chuckled.

"I have met many orcs and Ururk-Hai who would share that opinion," Leigh said proudly.

The day dragged along in tense boredom. The hunkering trees made more than a few of the riders uneasy to say the least, and the knowledge of their destination unnerved most of the rest. Eventually, and to Maylin's relief, Leigh settled down again and just leaned back against Boromir to watch the limbs pass. Jack tried counting trees for awhile, but the headache he reaped just wasn't worth it. Attempts at sparking a conversation all fizzled out in a matter of minutes, even among the three young people in the party.

What Leigh came to find rather disturbing was the fact that between the heavy roots of the Fangorn trees, which looked like they had been growing there since before the coming of the sun, there were periodical tufts of the green and yellow grass of the Riddermark. It was like seeing a fingernail growing from the middle knuckle, it just didn't look right, sort of distorted, deformed. While she had no doubt that it would be a breathtaking experience to see these trees in their actual habitat, Leigh couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted them to go _away_, _off_ the ground that wasn't theirs. She shook herself mentally. This was ridiculous.

Maylin simply enjoyed going along under the quiet shades of the ancient trees. Everything was peaceful to her mind, quiet, like how the world was in the beginning of days. Behind her, Legolas was alert and giddy from the massive trunks and branches the laced themselves around beside and above them. His arms were around Maylin, holding her steady before him on the swaying war horse. All was strong and steady here, sweeping and beautiful. The leaves danced in Maylin's mind, over her heart, wrapping it in their healing coolness.

They finally came out from under the heavy branches of the strange forest but suddenly Legolas turned his horse to look back.

"There are eyes!" Legolas shouted. "There are eyes in the forest. I have never seen such eyes before." To everyone's shock he began heading back towards the woods.

"Stay, Legolas Greenleaf!" Gandalf commanded. "Do not go back into the wood, not yet! It is not your time."

Before he even finished saying that three massive creatures swayed out of the trees on legs like trunks. Each was at least twelve feet high in their grey and green splendor. Their skin was rough like the scratchy bark of the trees they had just passed earlier. Mossy green beards hung down from their faces and trailed down like Spanish moss that dripped down from the boughs of so many swamps and forests in the Four's own world. It seemed that their clothing was akin to lichen or something of the kind, but blended in so well with the woody complexions of the tree herders that it was hard to tell where it started and where it stopped. Deep, solemn and sad eyes looked beyond the Riders and to the north, seeming to see into eternity. Each of the strange things raised their hands to their mouths and raised a call like a horn. A note exactly similar to their own came ringing back and another group of the long-legged beings came striding down from the north.

Leigh gazed at the graceful and powerful creatures in awe, a grin set on her face. Behind her Boromir made no movement or sound, obviously in shock, even though he had enjoyed the forewarning of seeing these creatures' tracks in Fangorn when they searched for the Hobbits.

Jack's keen eye swept over the stately herdsmen with the studying eye of a bard, learning and absorbing all that he could in the moments he was honored with such a sight.

The Elves were observing the treeherds with the calm interest of their kind, holding the regal beings before them in silent adoration, marveling at the noble bearing which they so naturally possessed.

Several of the Rohirrim, including the King, went for their weapons with cries of fear and dismay.

"You need no weapons," Gandalf told them firmly. "These are but herdsmen. They are not enemies, indeed they are not concerned with us at all." As if to prove his words, the wood-things turned and all went into the forest once again.

"Herdsmen!" Theoden exclaimed. "Where are their flocks? What are they, Gandalf? For it is plain that to you, at any rate, they are not a stranger."

"They are the shepherds of the trees," Gandalf replied solemnly. "Is it so long since you listened to tales by the fireside? You have now seen Ents, O King, Ents of Fangorn Forest. To them you are but the passing tale; all the years from Eorl the Young to Theoden the Old are of little count to them; and all the deeds of your house but a small matter."

The King was silent, deep in his own thoughts and reflections on seeing what were believed to be nothing but myth to his people. "Ents!" he wondered aloud after awhile. "Out of the shadows of legend I begin a little to understand the marvel of the trees, I think. I have lived to see strange days. The songs have come down among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the Sun."

"You should be glad, Theoden King," Leigh told him quietly. "For not only the little life of Men is now endangered, but the life also of those things which you have deemed the matter of legend. You are not without allies, even if you know them not."

Gandalf turned to Leigh and beamed at her. The girl had grown much indeed since he had last journeyed far with her.

"Yet also I should be sad," Theoden sighed. "For however the fortune of war shall go, may it not so end that much that was fair and wonderful shall pass for ever out of Middle-earth?"

"It may," said Gandalf. "The evil of Saruman cannot be wholly cured, nor made as if it had not been. But to such days we are doomed. Let us now go on with the journey we have begun!"

They continued their journey towards the nearest of the Two Towers and the earth began to show the signs of abuse and wear that only the dark hearts of the powers of evil could inflict so ruthlessly. Maylin's mind drifted to wonder what the lands before Mordor must be. Poor Jaden would be forced to see such horrors in person, not from the safety of a couch and the slim pages of a book.

At long last they came to the river Isen where so many brave warriors of the Mark had fallen against the cold and heartless steel of Isengard's malice. As they approached, Leigh glanced over on occasion to see how Lord Eomer was faring. His cousin had died here, and his body remained nearby as well. It would undoubtedly not be easy for the horselord to come this way and face the place where his fate to be the heir to the throne had been decided and his good friends had lost their lives in gruesome battle.

Eomer's heart thumped hollowly in his chest as they neared the battle field where his dear cousin had died fighting an unstoppable horde. A mist had descended to add to the gloom of his inward despair, it seemed almost as if nature were trying vainly to conceal the blood that stained her fair face. Where was the joy of victory when all those who had truly suffered for it were no more, were not there to share in the blessings of their toils and pains? What was the good of living in a land that had lost those that made it a home, not just a place? The men that had died here were more than mere soldiers to him, they were his brothers, his kin, every one of those that had perished he held as dear as those who shared his own blood.

For a brief moment the eyes of Leigh and the mighty Rider met through the fog. Leigh's heart bled inside her for this poor man before her. In his usually piercing eyes was a look of lost despair and sorrow. Eomer did not expect to find her eyes meeting his when he turned, but there she was, looking through his eyes and into his soul, the heart of his suffering. Slowly, reluctant to lose the gentle, caring solace of her gaze, he turned away again and continued on into the mist.

Something at the back of Jack's mind pricked and bumped like something was wrong and just wasn't getting it. He tried to shrug it off, but the unsure and confused feeling still flitted around in uneasy circles in the back of his mind. When they finally reached the ford, he understood what had been troubling him. The river that should be rushing along here was nothing more than a depressed trickle through the grey sand and rocks.

"This has become a dreary place," Eomer said. "What sickness has befallen the river? Many fair things Saruman has destroyed: has he devoured the springs of Isen too?"

"So it would seem," Gandalf replied darkly.

"Alas!" Theoden mourned. "Must we pass this way, where the carrion-beasts devour so many good Riders of the Mark?"

"This is our way," Gandalf said firmly. "Grievous is the fall of your men; but you shall see that at least the wolves of the mountains do not devour them. It is with their friends, the Orcs, that they hold their feast: such indeed is the friendship of their kind. Come!"

Leigh pitied Eomer, and when she was close enough to him she whispered softly, "Fear not, my Lord. Not all is as dark as it seems, have faith." Eomer looked at the strange woman in confusion as she once again moved off in the shifting line of riders. Her words brought him a strange comfort that he couldn't quite place and for a brief moment his heart returned from its icy state, like the sun had peeked around a cloud for a second.

The grim company sloshed across the pitiful remainder of the river in grief stricken silence. Even those who had not known the men who had died here, or shared the same blood of these dead Riders, such as the young people and the Three, there was a bleak sadness that they breathed in with the air that reached through their lungs and froze their hearts. What had once been a light mist was now a heavy fog, and the leaders of the company couldn't even truly see the end of the line of horsemen behind them. The 'splats' of the horses' hooves clomping through the muddy pools changed suddenly to 'clicks' and 'clops' as they came upon the islet in the middle of the river. Here was where many of the dead had fallen.

"Look!" Gandalf waved his staff towards something in the mist. "Friends have labored here."

Jack strained to lean forward in his saddle to see through the cloud of vapor around them and get a glimpse of what Gandalf was talking about. A mound had been raised in the middle of the little island, ringed with stones, and many spears were set around it as a silent and lasting testimony to just who lied buried within that mound.

"Here lie all the Men of the Mark that fell near this place," Jack whispered in quiet reverence.

"Here let them rest!" Eomer called, pulling his sword from his sheath and holding it out in salute to the men that had perished. "And when their spears have rotted and rusted, long still may their mound stand and guard the Fords of Isen!"

Maylin and Legolas bowed their heads in respect and murmured Elven blessings to honor such brave Men as those that had died in that place.

Silently Boromir watched the exchange between Lord Eomer and Leigh. When the Rohirrim had finished his salute to his Riders, he had turned and bowed his head to the girl riding with Boromir, in thanks for her kind words she had given him earlier. For some reason he could not explain, Boromir's blood ran hotly in his veins at this sight. He had been proud of Leigh's gentle and heartfelt consolation to the Rohirric lord, but he didn't like it at all when the other man returned the honor. Surely there was no call for such feelings of defensive aggression? The man was the heir to the throne of Rohan after all, probably the closest friend of Gondor besides the current King. Why then did his eyes turn to flint every time the horselord so much as glanced at Leigh? It was nothing, surely it was nothing. It was simply the mist boggling his eyes and confusing his mind.

After the honors had been paid to the fallen Men of the Mark, the spirits of the King's company lightened a bit and they continued on towards Isengard along an ancient highway that was apparently still well used. After a while of trotting along on this road, Gandalf called a halt to stop and rest for the night.

Men scurried about dismounting and carefully checking over their steeds, their most prized possessions and friends of old. The fog had defied the wishes of all and had become even thicker. It was becoming hard to see clearly for more than a few yards away from one's self. In this bustle of Men, horses and blinding mist, Leigh was trying to dismount. Boromir had swung down quickly, but just as he turned to help her down Aragorn had called from somewhere in the gloom and Boromir had been off with merely an apologetic look. Now Leigh was stuck on a horse that was getting spooked by the strange shapes that kept popping up like shadows in the mist and there was no way she was going to try just jumping off of a moving horse. Without warning, a dismounted Rider dashed out of the shadows and finished the spook-job on the horse Leigh was mounted on and the infernal thing reared.

"Eeeek!" Leigh yelped. "Down! Down, horsy, down!"

A few men were just sort of standing there looking at each other and then at the rearing horse, obviously not sure what to do with the situation. There were a couple that had some sense in them and leapt forward for the horse's reins to try and get control over the animal again, but most of them just kind of stood there gawking. In the mean time Leigh was hanging on for dear life and praying that the crazy animal would just stop long enough for her to do what she had considered earlier: jump for all she was worth.

A smooth and controlled voice drifted to Leigh over the horse's wild whinnies and poundings murmuring in Rohirric. At first the horse shied again from this newcomer, but after a minute or two of gentle whispers and quiet caresses on the nose, the beast finally settled down.

Leigh finally dared a peek up from the mane of the crazed horse to see just who her rescuer was. Eomer stepped carefully around the antsy horse and lifted Leigh off the horse. The teenager balked inwardly at how easily the man lifted her clear out of the saddle and onto the ground blushing at the same time from their contact.

"You certainly seem to have a knack," Leigh laughed, trying to distract herself from her thoughts.

"For taming horses or rescuing you?" Eomer asked.

"Both," Leigh consented. "Thank you yet again, Lord Eomer."

"You are certainly worth saving, my lady," Eomer replied. Before Leigh could possibly say anything in response he turned and walked off into the foggy night leaving an open-mouthed teenager in his wake.

After everything had been settled, a few men went off to try and sleep, the young people were not some of them. Jack had whipped up a little campfire for their use only, and the mist had dissipated, leaving the three a bit happier than they had been recently. When all the affairs with the other 'important' people had been settled Aragorn joined the three as well as Legolas and Gimli, who had wasted no time joining their friends, by the happy minuscule fire.

"That fire really isn't going to keep you very warm you know, Jack," Maylin smirked.

"It's for atmosphere," Jack grinned. "So... how did everyone's day go?"

"Up and down, up and down," Leigh said drearily. "Then, tree, tree, tree, tree..."

"Yeah," Jack grinned, "a few too many trees for me too... and a bit too much riding."

"It was not too many trees!" Maylin disagreed vehemently. "It was a _forest_, you twit, there are _supposed_ to be lots of trees in forests."

"I think we were being sarcastic, Maylin," Leigh snickered. "I like trees just as much as the next guy, these were just... out of place I guess."

"Oh how I would love to see the true forest of Fangorn!" Legolas sighed, gazing dreamy eyed into the fire.

"I might not mind seeing them in their real place," Jack shrugged. "As long as we walk..."

"Hey," Leigh cut in. "I have more reason to dislike horses than you ever will, so drop it."

"What happened this time?" Aragorn teased. "Did your horse run away with you?"

"No. It just reared is all."

"And where was Boromir during this?" Gimli rumbled in agitation.

"_Someone_," Leigh glared at Aragorn who had to turn away to hide his grin, "called him off right after he got down, he didn't have time to help me off."

"Who helped you then?" Jack asked, leaning forward like a schoolboy anxious for a story.

"Lord Eomer... again."

Gimli muttered and cursed angrily beneath his breath and Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a look that agreed that they should change the subject before the Dwarf hurt someone, namely: Boromir or Eomer.

"Is your harp still with you, Jack?" Legolas asked in his clear Elven tones.

"Yes..." Jack gave the Elf a distrustful look.

"Well I can think of no better time for a demonstration then," Aragorn leaned back with a cocky grin.

"I can't play by myself!" Jack cried. "I always had someone play something else with me or sing while I was in Lothlorien!"

"Alright then," Aragorn turned towards the others in the circle. "Any volunteers?"

"Leigh can sing," Maylin piped up.

"Maylin!" Leigh yelped in mortal distress.

"Any other volunteers?" Silence.

Around the camp Men paused in their talks and labors. Through the camp the strums of a harp and the notes of a voice danced through the camp.

_Can you hear my cries?_

_Can you see my eyes? _

_I am calling out to you, Mmm._

_Calling in the distance, softly,_

_Could it be the sound of my heart?_

_Here I am before you, reaching,_

_Could it be I'm slipping away?_

_Can you hear my cries?_

_Can you see my eyes?_

_I am calling out to you, Mmm._

_Suddenly I see I'm falling,_

_Trying to find a way off the ground._

_Will I see the future in me,_

_As I see it slipping away?_

_Can you hear my cries?_

_Can you see my eyes?_

_I am calling out to you._

As the song drifted off into the evening a darkness rolled forward along the banks of the river. Panic sparked among the men resting along the shore and some began to grab for their weapons. Then Gandalf's voice cut through the sudden dark fog and fear.

"Stay where you are! Draw no weapons! Wait and it will pass you by!"

Towering shapes swayed by in strange columns past the camp. People cowered down on the ground or huddled into groups in a sad excuse for protection. Legolas draped one long arm around a shaking Maylin and pulled her close, soothing her fear of the shapes. Not for the first time that night Leigh wondered where Boromir had gotten to. He had simply vanished after Aragorn had called him off, and now she wished more than ever that he was there with them. Like a genie had heard her wish when she rubbed its lamp, Boromir appeared behind her and pulled her to himself with both heavy arms, glaring through mist as if daring one of the things to try something.

It took what seemed like ages for the things to pass by the little camp. When they had finally gone no one felt like sleeping anymore and they packed up again soon afterwards and continued on their way to Isengard.

A/N: I am ready and rearin' to have shipper groups form! Who do you want Leigh to go with? Who would you go with? Share such deep thoughts as these when you REVIEW! SAVE THE AUTHORS!


	26. Of Herbs and Stewed Teen

Disclaimer: If I had a magic lamp I'd wish that I owned this story, but I don't. Thus, I do not own the Lord of the Rings. I do however own the Four, and they are precious to me! Steal and I will... do... something!

A/N: Heavens to Betsy! Here we go: Merry and Pippin haven't been forgotten, the three just can't talk about them or anything in front of the others (because they don't know yet), and I love 'em to death so they will be back in shortly I promise! Eomer's cousin was buried with the other Rohirrim at the Fords of Isen in the book, and I'm sticking to that primarily as my main source, I loved the scene in the movie where he was burried, but as said before I'm sticking with the book. In my opinion they didn't quite do Eowyn justice in the movies, so she will be in it more later, she simply wasn't there in the books, so that's why we haven't seen that much of her. I am very happy with my readers' enthusiam! It shall be rewarded! This is a shortish chapter I'm afraid, but please forgive me, I wanted to give you all a cliffy so very badly! The next chapter will probably be more Jaden, her story's a bit behind the others so... yeah. Enjoy! See you at the end!

Of Herbs and Stewed Teen

Frodo was tired again, Jaden could see that plainly in the way his feet barely cleared the ground enough to take a step. She knew that this was coming, it had been something she'd known all along since she'd made her choice at Amon Hen, but that didn't mean she still couldn't feel the harsh sting of seeing a beloved friend in pain, and finding that there was nothing she could do to help ease his suffering.

This wasn't the first time she'd seen a friend like this, the other three of the four had given her plenty of practice back in their own world. Hmm, that was strange, 'their own world'. Wasn't this their world now? Now that they had come so far through so much and made so many good friends, wasn't this their world as well now? What was the difference really? One had flying machines and coffee makers and cars and CDs, but was that what really mattered? This world might not have those things, but it had other things like Dwarves and Hobbits and magic that the old world didn't. Was that what made a place a 'world', just what it had in it? Did it require text books and complicated theories as to what made everything what it was? To Jaden it seemed that all that was required was for a place to have love, and beings to generate that love. People might look strange here, but they still smiled and laughed, still cried and comforted each other, and that was what really mattered in the end right?

"Jaden?"

Jaden quickly snapped her gaze back to the weary Hobbit before her. Frodo had a slightly teasing smile spreading across his face as he watched the confused and dazed expression of his fellow walker jerk back into focus with a guilty smirk.

"What were you thinking of?" Frodo asked.

"Home," Jaden replied distantly, still thoughtful.

"The place you came from?" Frodo cocked his head.

"I'm not quite sure," Jaden responded. "I'm not really sure whether my home is here or there now... Just trying to straighten my thoughts out."

"Thoughts can be messy things," Frodo grimaced.

"What were you thinking of?" Jaden queried.

"Nothing actually," Frodo smiled. "Just enjoying the lovely forest."

"It is pretty," Jaden nodded enthusiastically. Suddenly she ducked her head and looked thoroughly annoyed with herself. "I'm sorry, you should be resting right now! Sam would have my hide and then some if he caught me keeping you awake like this!"

Frodo chuckled. "Sam's a good soul."

"Yeah," Jaden grinned, "he is."

For a few moments they both sat in silence, looking around themselves at the rustling leaves and mossy rocks. It was by far the most peaceful place they'd been since they'd left the rest of the Fellowship. It was also the only place that they hadn't felt to be threatening. After a few minutes Frodo looked up and caught Jaden's eye again.

"Jaden," he said suddenly, "get some sleep." The Hobbit grinned slyly. "You don't look so good you know."

"Same to you," Jaden smiled sleepliy.

Both curled up and let sleep wash over them in drowsy waves, content to let the world solve its own problems for a little while.

Sam came up shortly after the two had dropped off and took a moment to just watch his sleeping friend and master.

His master, Frodo, had not taken well to the long walks and short sleeps in hostile places without good food or shelter. Lines creased his forehead and his face in general from constant worry, probably even in his sleep. 'Of course in his sleep,' Sam thought to himself. 'The Ring wouldn't let him off that easy.' The sturdy material of the older Hobbit's clothing had even succumbed to some degree to the harsh wear and tear of the rough terrain. Little holes sprinkled his trousers and shirt like little hungry mouths wanting a good mending, a mending that there was simply no time for. It seemed that the clothing, especially the trousers, had picked up some small memento from just about everywhere they'd been. Even though they'd washed in the stream just down the hill, there were some things that just plain water wouldn't be able to erase on its own. A bit of stubborn slime clung to the hem from when they'd spent the night in that festering pit near the Black Gates, there was a stain that stretched from the knee downwards that had been a parting gift from the stagnant water of the Dead Marshes and many cuts and tears decorated the entire outfit from the tricky climbs around the Emyn Muil. All in all, his master had looked much better. Sam was very certain that if Frodo lost his shirt his ribs would be neatly displayed before the whole world without the protective cloth.

And of course then there was the Ring, the instigator of this entire mess. Every day Frodo's steps grew shorter and more labored as the tiny gold band pulled him down towards the grave. Dark circles under Frodo's eyes made it look to Sam like someone had smacked him in the eyes with accursed thing. Conversations seemed to grow increasingly difficult, and a smile was a rare gift that should be cherished above all else. While much could be done to help with Frodo's physical ailments when they returned from their perilous quest, the same could not be said for his heart and spirit, which seemed to be shriveling daily with the constant abuse dealt out by the Ring.

Ring of Power indeed. Ring of Suffering would have been a better name for it. Boromir had been right. Who would have thought that so small a thing could cause such great fear and doubt?

Then there was Jaden, the little prophetess from who-knows-where. There she was thrown into the middle of something she honestly had nothing to do with and she was willingly sticking her neck out and risking her own life for a world that wasn't even her own! The girl astounded Sam every time he looked at her. He doubted very much that she had asked for something like this, and knew as well that every day she secretly wished (secret even to herself) that she wished to be with her friends. Yet she had never whimpered and whined for a way back, every day she simply bore her own fears and anxieties silently, not even wanting to relieve her stress on someone else. How she could bear up under the terrific pressure of knowing the future and not being able to say a word about it to anyone blew him away. Her quiet courage and light humor had born up his spirits on many occasions.

Her physical state was just about as bad as Frodo's. While the Hobbit was tormented by the Ring, Jaden was tormented by her knowledge of what lie ahead, as well as her fears of what might. While many teenagers tended to be rather gangly things, she had lost nearly any fat on her that she might have had before. A few wiry tendrils of muscle lied beneath her tanned skin, but the only result was to make her look desperately thin and wildly strong in a way that reminded Sam unpleasantly of Gollum. Her hair had grown since he had first met her. Often times he would see her cutting off bits with a knife when they were still with the Fellowship, or having one of the other girls help her. Jaden had always told him that it was quite common for girls to have such short hair where she came from, and it wasn't anything to get anxious about. Now though it had grown till it almost reached her shoulders, even though it was still queerly 'layered' as she had said. It always seemed to amuse her to try and explain her hair to him, but recently that, along with so many other things, had fallen by the wayside and hair had fallen to the bottom of her priority list.

Gollum popped his scraggly head up over Sam's shoulder, also observing the sleeping figures. The skinny creature remained there for a moment and then closed his eyes and scampered off again.

After a few more minutes of simply watching the steady, quiet breathing of his companions Sam turned with a sigh to see what Gollum was up to.

_The tv was blaring some old sitcom when Jaden opened her eyes. That had been such an odd dream... Her thoughts were shattered as something crashed down on the hard tile floor of the kitchen behind her. Propping herself up on an elbow, Jaden peeked over the back of the sofa she was lying on and saw Leigh perched on the counter with a hand clapped over her mouth as she snickered at Maylin who had apparently dropped the pan in question._

"_Whatcha making?" Jaden asked groggily._

"_Maylin is attempting to make brownies actually," Leigh grinned. "Nice to see you among the living again, feel like some chocolate, gooey goodness?"_

"_Oh yeah!" Jaden pumped her fist in the air for emphasis._

"_If I ever get this straight," Maylin sighed as she scrutinized the back of the brownie-mix box._

"_How hard could it possibly be!" Leigh guffawed. "It's BROWNIE MIX! You should be able to make this stuff in your sleep!"_

"_Hey watch it," Maylin cautioned. "You still remember the time we tried to make gravy and it looked exactly like applesauce right?"_

"_That all worked out in the end,' Leigh folded her arms over her chest with a triumphant grin. "C'mon! Jay here is hungry, aren't you, Jay?" Jaden nodded passionately. "You see? She's visiting and we're being terrible hosts!"_

"_Why, oh why did you have to pick the only college that had dorms with kitchens?" Maylin sighed, obviously not for the first time._

"_Cheaper to cook in," Leigh grinned. _

"_Yo!" Jaden called. "Still starving over here!"_

_Leigh conked Maylin on the head with her fist._

"_Want some help?" she asked._

"_I can handle it," Maylin insisted. "Go get out of the kitchen and watch something with Jay, k? You're getting in my way."_

"_Oh, miss bossy," Jaden imitated a certain animated fish._

_Leigh swung over the back of the couch and beamed at her friend._

"_What ya wanna watch?" she asked._

"_Whatever," Jaden grinned. Then she leapt forward and captured the remote. "Just so long as I've got the power."_

"_Clicker thief," Leigh sniffed. Jaden grinned, Leigh was the only person she knew that called the remote control the 'clicker'. She had always said it was a family thing. It was still funny though._

_For a little while they flipped channels casually, not feeling like anything in particular, and enjoying making fun of the short blurps of speech they caught as they flipped past. It was a very childish pass time but it was still fun. Then their surfing was interrupted by a glorious call from the kitchen._

"_Brownies are done!"_

"Jaden, Jaden, are you awake?"

The teenager groaned and covered her head. Despite her efforts the dream fled away back into dreamland and left her lying there on the forest floor in Middle Earth... just who was in dream land again? She risked a squint and was greeted by bright sunshine that invaded her poor head through that tiny slit. Nope, definitely reality alright.

"I've made some stew," Sam said as he shook her again. "I thought it best to wake you so you could have some while it's hot."

"Thanks," Jade managed a groggy smile. As Sam walked away again she sighed as she dragged herself into an upright position. That had been a great dream...

When she looked up she caught Frodo gazing at her with an amused grin.

"It's about time you woke up," he said perkily. "Sam has been shaking you for at least a good five minutes you know."

"I was having a _wonderful_ dream," Jaden groaned, letting her head flop back against a tree. The she narrowed her eyes at Frodo. "And it was about to get a lot better."

"Well there is some good news for you then," Frodo laughed, "life's not so bad on this side of sleep. Smeagol brought in a couple coneys and Sam has made us all some stew."

"All except Smeagol," Jaden pointed out.

"Yes, it's a pity, truly," Sam lamented as he walked over. Then a wicked smile split his features and he said, "Simply means we only have to split it three ways instead of four!"

It was an interesting meal to say the least seeing as how there was merely one fork and one spoon whilst three people were trying to eat. Jaden remembered a simple trick Jack often employed in the crowded cafeteria, after fishing out the chunks of meat (which was better than she had been expecting) she lifted the rim of the bowl to her lips, tilted it up and sipped on the broth that was left. Usually the idea was to hurry and chug it down, but Jaden had gone far too long on nothing but the Elven way bread and she intended to enjoy every delicious second of the simple meal. Sam was intrigued with Jaden's strange methods but refused to try for himself, even with the others' coaxing. As he said, "I've not had any good food in ages. I am not about to take the risk of losing some of this stuff just to try a new trick." Naturally, this instigated a good giggling fit from the other two.

After the meal, which consisted of an entire half of the one of the _lembas_ as well as the stew, Sam trudged down to the stream to wash his oh-so-precious pots and such while Frodo and Jaden leaned back against some nice, cozy trees. The sun rose above the reeking shadows of Mordor and suddenly warm light splashed down around them in the ferns.

"I think Sam was looking forward to washing up his pans," Jaden commented.

"Probably," Frodo agreed. "I think it has a connection with normality and peace for him. It'll be good for him to have something to do that calls up memories of home."

Nodding, Jaden pulled out her journal from her rather beaten up pack. After tapping the page with a blank mind for a few moments a spark lit in her eyes and she began scratching away in the little volume.

_For a moment I really didn't know what to write here. It felt strange actually, usually I just write whatever's bugging me or scared me recently and then the rest kinda flows out with it. But today I feel... almost happy (please understand that it's really hard to be fully happy with the Black Land sitting within spitting distance). _

_Sam made us all some lovely stew today. And it really was day too! Right now the sun is up and I can actually see the beautiful landscape around me by something other than moon- and starlight. I'm so happy, I got my wish. Smeagol slipped off somewhere, but that's alright, he'll be back he always comes back. Poor thing probably went off to find something he could eat, he hates anything cooked if I haven't mentioned that in here yet. He's pretty nice to me, I know he's anxious to play riddle games, maybe sometime soon there'll be time for them. _

_I had a wonderful dream about being home with Leigh and Maylin, Jack wasn't there, but he might have been if the dream had fully played itself out, he'll forgive me. Leigh was teasing, I was sleeping on something besides the hard ground, and Maylin was making rich, chocolatey brownies. Of course as soon as she said they were done and we were gonna eat them Sam came and woke me up. That was a real bummer I can tell you._

_It still feels extremely odd and uncomfortable to know what's going to happen next. I don't want to be a prophet, I never asked to be, and I don't want to be. I keep having this strange hope that I'll wake up with some kind of amnesia and not know the story plot anymore. Like that's gonna happen. _

_The sun looks wonderful, I've really missed it during this trek. Maybe once this is all over I can just sit somewhere and watch it for a few days...that would be heaven. I should go now. Sam will be back soon, and I know what's going to happen in a few minutes._

_Oh wow, I never really thought about this bit before, well some but you know what I mean. What will happen with me standing there with the Hobbits? Will they think I'm an Orc and shoot me? I hope not. And Faramir, what about Faramir? I know what happened to his brother, or at least I think I do, that is if Leigh didn't do something stupid which I'm deathly afraid she did... oh bother, this is gonna be interesting._

Jaden pried herself out of her journal with a sigh, wishing she could just keep writing for awhile, it felt so good. But knowledge of impending events urged her on to hurriedly stash the precious book and the writing supplies. It would be awful if they got left behind, and she knew she'd need her source of security in the days to come.

Frodo and the teenager both snapped their heads up at what sounded like whispering voices. Sam burst into view and hurriedly stamped out a traitorous fern that had caught on fire from a stray spark and hurried over to where the others were now hunkered down on the ground.

"I thought I heard a whistle..." Sam said.

"Shh!" Jaden hushed him. "We heard voices, there's people out there."

In a matter of seconds practically everything had been bundled up and shoved into their packs again and slung over their shoulders. Then they plunged into the ferns and ducked beneath the leafy cover in hopes of hiding. But Jaden knew just how futile that hope was.

A/N: Yes, I'm obsessed with Jaden's journal. But you like it don't you? Don't you? Well, you know how to tell me! Click the review button and write 'fuzzyful' in your review. Why? Because I'm random. By the way, thankees to the awesome people who are reading BOTH my stories! You guys are da bomb!


	27. Smoke Joys

Disclaimer: I have only ever owned the Lord of the Rings in my dreams, so unless this is a dream, I don't own it.

A/N: READ ME! Greetings! Ai na vedui update! Kudos to whoever knows what that translates to! Lots of fluff ahead! Couldn't resist, sorry. B/L shippers shall be happy with this chappy me thinks, yes precious, we hopes! Stuff does get nice and angsty later on, I promise, I just wanted a happy little scene with everyone's favorite Hobbits... yeah. If you read my other fic 'Spirit of a Freak' as well, then you are the coolest person ever! Even cooler if you review! Enjoy, me hearties! See you at the end!

Smoke Joys

The road beneath the hooves of the horses was dull and pale in the light of day. About the grim riders, the air hung heavy with the scent and wisps of smoke from the burning pits and foundries of Isengard. In such bleak and bleached surroundings it was little wonder that conversation was running up against the stony wall of silence and had entered the doldrums. Animal life seemed to have fled from the premises and thus not even the sound of birds chirping or squirrels skittering along invaded the unearthly silence that muffled the troop passing by on the forlorn road to the lesser to the Two Towers.

"Where did you go last night, Boromir?" Leigh asked quietly. "I- we- missed you."

"I need to think about... some things," he told her. "I am sorry if I left you lonely."

"You call sitting around with Jack, Maylin, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli 'lonely'," Leigh giggled. "I think the fog messed with your head."

"Or you did," Boromir smirked.

Leigh grinned in front of him and settled back against his chest, defying the unnatural quiet and eeriness of the empty land they were now passing through.

Further back in the little herd, Jack was frowning as he thought over how best to describe the lumbering forms they had seen in the dark mists the night before. He had been able to give the subject much thought so far because after that grand even no one, not even the laziest among them, had so much as yawned.

To be perfectly honest, he had been in a fix trying not to show his amusement at the blatant fear scrawled across several of the younger or more superstitious Rohirrim's faces. It really wasn't fair to know so much in advance, it really wasn't, but Jack was beginning to enjoy himself none the less. Events that would have shaken him into a drooling heap on the pebbles of the road rolled off like water on a duck with a bit of forewarning and foreknowledge of exactly what it was they were facing or hearing. Several times the young man had been sorely tempted to say something 'prophetish' into some seasoned warrior's ear in advance of the actual event and then watch as the victim's eyes grew very, very wide. He had refrained from such action due to several strong, motivating powers, two of which were his best friends and one was a rather grouchy wizard who might not always hesitate before zapping him into a frog to hop about for the rest of his life and eat worms... literally. Jack judged it best to hold his tongue in such company. Haldir had once been one of his motivations to stay quiet.

The great Elven captain had personally seen to just about everything concerning the teenager while he was in Lothlorien, everything from his harp lessons to making sure he was taking the awful brews that would help him heal. It seemed that medicine had a universal bad taste, no matter which race made it. Several times Jack had asked Haldir why he paid so much attention to the simple needs of one lowly human. The answer had always been the same, "I do for you are a brave young man, who will one day grow to be a brave warrior. It is my duty to care for one of those that I found at the edge of these woods. And it never hurts one's cause with a beautiful lady to treat her friends with respect." Such simple, jovial comments would no longer fall from those lips. Dirt now filled that mouth.

Jack gave himself a mental slap. He thought he suffered from the loss of Haldir! Maylin had lost far more. But then... it appeared that she had gained a great deal more as well.

Beneath the clopping hooves of the horses, the well used, dusty way morphed into a large street that was paved with huge flat stones that looked to the weary minds of the travelers much like white dragon scales glimmering in the scant sunlight beneath their coating of dust. Other similar signs of the great tower began popping up along the roadside, most notably a large, black pillar that boldly displayed a white hand pointing north. While the three young people's eyes grew wider and wider with interest and awe at the strange and powerful craftsmanship that had built these things the native characters to the story, excluding Gandalf were silent not with awe, but with trepidation at what monstrosities they were soon to encounter in the lair of the former White Wizard.

Gandalf paid no heed in any form to the almost gaudy white hand as he continued on his way past it. As he cleared it, everyone behind him, which _was_ everyone, saw the flawless white of the hand turn into a devilish blood-red. Now Saruman stood convicted of all the deaths he had taken and all the blood that the ground and steel weapons of his soldiers had drunk; the blood of the women and children of the Westfold, the blood of the brave soldiers of the Mark who had perished at the Fords of Isen, Helm's Deep, and all across Rohan, and also the immortal and pure blood of the Elves of Lorien who had died untimely deaths at the hands of his fighting Uruk-Hai. It seemed like the guilt-ridden red had seeped from the nails of the hand, which were now purely red, almost like someone had painted them that awful cherry color.

To those who do not know the structure of Isengard, it should be pointed out that there was a massive wall that ringed the entire park around the once-stately tower that was seemingly pulled down in a loop from the arms of the mountain behind the fortress. There was only one entrance through which one could enter into Isengard and approach Orthanc, and it was barred by massive iron doors. Some of the fainter of heart among the party secretly wished that these doors should be found securely locked and bolted, thus requiring a far greater force that they currently had to force their way over or through the doors and into peril.

As they continued on towards the black wall ahead little and large puddles and pools of water began appeared around them and even underfoot on the muddy road. While puzzled frowns folded over the faces of their companions, the three teenagers were sharing happy, knowing looks behind the others' backs.

Maylin giggled at the sight of Gimli's face when they reached the great and grand iron doors to find them in a tangled heap, caved in and beaten to a black mess of metal. The amusing looks continued as they urged their horses onward to discover that all of Isengard was saturated with water from the river Isen which had taken its revenge with the help of the Ents on the evil wizard that had kept it dammed up as a prisoner for so long. Bits and pieces of wood floated along in the murky water which was dirty now only due to its strenuous cleaning of the filth of Isengard. Beams and metal poles poked up in a confused manner from the sloshing water as if in search of the rest of the parts to whatever building or scaffold it had once been a member of. Flotsam and jetsam bobbed along in humorous disarray in the flood waters that were disturbed by the passing of the might Rohirric warhorses.

Then two small figures drew their attention from where they were reclining on an impressive heap of rubble. One of them was flopped over on his side, clearly fast asleep or fully drunk, or both. The other was leaning back against a heavy boulder issuing blue smoke rings from his mouth. The little man did not notice them at first and simply pulled on his pipe in quiet ease while the Men of Rohan, the heir to the throne of Rohan and their King all stared at him with open jaws in a few cases.

Upon catching sight of them, the funny little Hobbit, for that was what he was, popped to his feet, placed a hand on his chest and bowed deeply to the King and his heir, paying absolutely no attention to Gandalf and his companions or the three grinning teenagers.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he greeted them formally for a Hobbit. "We are the doorwardens. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc is my name; and my companion, who, alas! is overcome with weariness-" he delivered a swift kick to his sleeping friend's side at this point "-is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the house of Took. Far in the North is out home. The Lord Saruman is within; but at the moment he is closeted with one Wormtongue, or doubtless he would be here to welcome such honorable guests."

"Doubtless he would," Gandalf laughed, highly amused by the young Hobbit's display. "And was it Saruman that ordered you to guard his damaged doors, and watch for the arrival of guests, when your attention could be spared from plate and bread?"

"No, good sir, the matter escaped him," Merry nodded gravely. "He has been much occupied. Our orders came from Treebeard, who has taken over the management of Isengard. He commanded me to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best."

"And what about your companions?" Gimli roared, clearly unable to repress his furious comments any more. "You rascals, you woolly-footed and wool-pated truants! A fine hunt you led us! And now here we find you feasting and idling- and smoking! Smoking! Where did you come by the weed, you villians? Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between rage and joy, that if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!"

"You speak for me, Gimli," Legolas laughed. "Though I would sooner learn how they came by the wine."

"One thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter wits," Pippin announced in a slightly slurred voice as he cracked one eye open. "Here you find us sitting on a field of victory, amid the plunder of armies, and you wonder how we came by a few well earned comforts!"

"Really! The two of you!" Leigh shouted merrily from the horse she shared with Boromir. "We've been through thick and thin together, and all you can think to do is correct the follies of an Elf and a grouchy old Dwarf! I feel loved."

"And not a word to me either!" Jack exclaimed. "Here I catch up with you, all the way from Lorien, and you're too focused on food to give me so much as a 'hello'!"

"Hello," Merry said cheekily.

"Good afternoon, Maylin," Pippin piped up. "Such lovely, foggy weather we're having isn't it? Do you hear those awful winds though? Such noises they make!"

"Watch it or I'll share your feet and weave the hair into a rug," Leigh warned them.

"Oh it's a nasty wind indeed!" Merry cried to Pippin.

"It cannot be doubted that we witness the meeting of dear friends," Theoden grinned. "So these are the lost ones of your company, Gandalf? Here before my eyes stand yet another marvel! Are not these the Halflings, that some among us call the Hobytlan?"

"Hobbits, if you please, lord," Pippin corrected him.

"Hobbits?" Theoden mused. "Your tongue is strangely changed; but the name sounds not unfitting so. Hobbits! No report that I have heard does justice to the truth."

"Where is Treebeard, Mery?" Gandalf queried before the discussion could continue into the endless talk of the Halflings.

"Away on the north side, I believe," Merry replied. "Most of the others are with him."

As Merry and Gandalf continued to ask and answer questions, the three teenagers and the remnants of the Fellowship besides they themselves began edging forward in the little knot of riders to try and get closer to the two Hobbits. At length, it was finally decided that Gandalf, the King, and the King's company would ride out to the northern end of Isengard and consult with Treebeard there. The teenagers, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir stayed behind though and stayed with their old friends that had been separated from them so suddenly before.

"Now that the great ones have gone to discuss high matters," Legolas said, "the hunters can perhaps learn the answers to their own small riddles. We tracked you as far as the forest, but there are still many things thatI should like to know the truth of."

"Well then, O Great Hunters," Pippin retorted, " why don't you share with us an account of your travels and adventures first?"

"Or second," Gimli put in, eyeing the food the Hobbits had previously been attacking with apparent ferocity. "A good meal should go before story telling in my mind."

"Mine too!" Jack agreed as he plopped down beside the Dwarf, next to Legolas. "Lembas and Elvish food are wonderful and mysterious things to be sure, but I always prefer food that I can recognize."

"Are you bashing my cooking?" Maylin demanded and she drew her feet up to sit Indian-style.

"No offense," Leigh smirked, "but your cooking can hardly be compared to the food of the Elves, Maylin."

"But I am an Elf."

"Your cooking is still all Human things though," Leigh argued.

"Good heavens," Merry muttered. He turned to Boromir. "Have they been like this the entire time?"

"Not the _entire_ time," Boromir chuckled.

"Lad," Gimli sighed, "one of these days you're going ta' have to do a bit more than hint about such things." Under his breath he added, "My beard depends on it."

"Are we missing something?" Merry asked, looking from Boromir to Gimli to a furiously blushing Leigh.

"Ker-shipy!" Jack squealed under his breath. Maylin elbowed him in the ribs and he stopped pretty fast.

"What?" Pippin asked, now fully awake and looking around the circle for signs of what he and his dearest friend were missing out on. "What great thing has happened that makes Leigh blush, Jack tease, Maylin attack Jack and everyone else just smirk?"

"There have been.." Aragorn cleared his throat and shot a teasing look at Leigh who replied immaturely by sticking her tongue out at him. "...developments between Leigh and Boromir."

"'Developments'?" Merry asked with arched eyebrows. "'Developments'?"

"We kissed!" Leigh exclaimed in frustration as she tossed her hands in the air. "It's not the end of the world or the beginning of all jokes! Jeez-o-petes!"

"Ah-hah," Pippin grinned wide enough to show his teeth. "So Leigh has a suitor then? One she seems to fancy no less!"

"If you do not stop it," Leigh hissed, "I will punch you hard enough to send you over the top of Orthanc."

"Who would have ever thought that our Leigh could turn such a bright shade of red?" Maylin snickered. It was official, Leigh was a bad influence.

"Watch it, Elfy dearest," Leigh threatened. "I'm not the only one with somethin' going on."

"Oh really?" Pippin was really interested now.

"Legolas likes her," Jack whispered far to loudly to actually call it a 'whisper', more like a really airy statement.

"And she likes Legolas," Leigh supplied.

It as now Maylin's turn to blush, and blush she did.

"We certainly missed you all," Merry grinned.

"Oh the feeling is mutual, I assure you," Leigh grinned, triumphant and cocky over her victory.

"How did you get away from the Uruks?" Pippin asked, lying on his stomach and resting his chin on his fists like a little boy.

"I was rescued by lord Eomer," Leigh said.

"Who?"

"The man who was beside the King," Maylin filled him in having recovered from her embarrassment.

"Oh him," Pippin nodded.

"You know what I wish?" Maylin asked Jack and Leigh as she looked up from the array of food before them.

"What?" Jack asked.

"I wish they had found chocolate here," she said determinedly.

"That makes two of us," Leigh smirked.

"Three," Jack corrected.

"You three will never fail to keep the rest of us with our heads spinning," Aragorn smiled fondly at the three young friends.

"Oh I hope not," Jack frowned. "Things would be very boring without us."

"Cocky sucker aren't you?" Leigh asked.

"Just a little," Jack smiled self assuredly.

"If you could wish for just one thing from your home," Aragorn asked them as he leaned back, "what would it be?"

"You sound like I do at a sleep over when I'm bored," Maylin snorted. "Chocolate or my ipod. Definitely one of those."

"I've got music," Jack shrugged, raising up his pack that was spread tight over the shape of his harp. "I'd go for chocolate without a doubt."

"I second Jack," Leigh agreed as she tried to beat Pippin to the better part of the food.

"Now I have a question," Boromir stated. "What is chocolate?"

"You poor, sad soul," Leigh sighed. "Those who have never tasted the glory that is chocolate deserve our pity."

"Well...," Maylin frowned, trying to think of someway to describe the delicious pleasure of the brown stuff. "... It's brown..."

"It comes in all kinds of shapes and colors," Jack added, "but plain brown is always the best in my opinion. It's incredibly sweet, and it's flavored by a kind of bean that grows in really hot places. You set it in your mouth and it melts. The stuff melts in the sun too, that's often a problem when trying to eat it."

"There's simply no way to describe it," Leigh confessed. "The southern countries here might actually have some, I honestly don't know."

"As I said," Aragorn laughed, "you shall always keep our heads spinning."

"In delight at our presence or confusion?" Leigh asked.

"Both."

Conversation continued and eventually did turn to actual happenings among the troop that had occurred with they had been separated. In the end, Pippin produced pipes from the depths of his pocket and distributed them among his friends who, sadly, lacked pipes for their own use and so that he too could smoke again. The three of the Four present winced from the familiar smell and went outside with Aragorn and Legolas where they had a decent shot at getting some breathable air even though Aragorn was armed and smoking with his own pipe.

The lanky Ranger drew his cloak around himself, veiling the mail he had kept on since the battle at Helm's Deep and stretched his legs out before him as he issued forth a thin stream of smoke.

"Look!" Pippin cried. "Strider the Ranger has come back!"

"He has never been away," Aragorn replied. "I am Strider and Dunadan too, and I belong both to Gondor and the North."

Leigh settled back next to him, despite the smoke, and relaxed fully for the first time in days.

"You know," she drawled as Aragorn turned to her, "I really do wish I could've known you when you were just a Ranger in the Wilds. Of course, even then, I would have known better... it still would have been fun thouggh."

"Fun?" Aragorn asked as if there wasn't even a pipe protruding from his mouth at all.

"Yeah," Leigh sighed. "Back when you weren't so troubled I think."

"And I would have liked very much to have met you and your friends before you were kidnaped by Nazgul and nearly died in the wilderness," he smiled. "As I said though, Strider is still here, so you are now seeing me just as the Hobbits shall, I think, always see me."

"You are a very wise man," Jack bobbed his head from nearby.

"Thank you, master harper," Aragorn grinned around his pipe. "I should very much like to think that I've learned something in my years on this earth."

"And how many there have been," Leigh laughed.

"I still have my sword you know..."

"Eh," Leigh leaned back and jerked her hood up over her face. "It's well worth the risk to me."

A/N: Don't shoot me! You want your wonderful action and angsty lovelies back? Fine! Wait for the next chapter! Review if you are my friend... or even if you're not. Type in 'sea turtles' if you have read the all-powerful author's notes! Thank you and namarie for now!


	28. Troubles as Big as a House

Disclaimer: Short, sweet and to the point: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, you twit.

A/N: STOP POINTING SHARP OBJECTS AT ME! I have the perfect reason to not update: I wasn't here! Ha! I had no computer, so there! You will be pleased to know that I DID write quite a good bit of this out by hand though, I know, I'm hopeless. I go on vacation and work, there's something wrong with this picture... Also, thanks to the extended Two Towers which I watched part of mutters, I have decided to change something in upcoming chapters. THAT caused a headache because it's a pretty major thing... Just need to say... I CAN'T WAIT TO GET INTO RETURN OF THE KING! Yippee! Had to say that, please forgive. Ahem, read on!

Troubles Big as a House

To be hidden by the ferns, Jaden had to lie flat on her stomach. Frodo and Sam were crouching next to her and neither hide nor hair could be seen of Gollum, who had most likely fled to the far side of Ithilien by that point. At that moment Jaden wished she was off and away with him. Poky grass and dry dust were tickling her face in an unpleasant way and she had the burning desire to spit out the dead plant life that was starting to get into her mouth.

Nervous anticipation was grinding away at her nerves when the first sounds of shaking branches and muffled voices really reached them. Jaden dug her nails into the dusty earth below and ground her teeth as the sounds grew closer. On a childish whim she squeezed her eyes shut, thinking that maybe if she couldn't see them, they couldn't see her. Really they couldn't see her, hidden under the fern fronds (the Elven cloak probably helped), and she certainly couldn't see them with her cheek pressed into the dirt, so the whim was right in a manner. Either way, the sounds, now clearly footsteps and male voices, were coming yet nearer.

Was this it? Was this going to be what finally did her in? It wasn't fair! She'd survived Nazgul, wolves, the mountains' fury, Moria along with all its monsters, and years of putting up with Jack, Leigh and Maylin, and now she was going to die at the hands of the noble Gondorians, the good guys!

'Stop it,' she reprimanded herself harshly. 'Is this how you're goin to help Frodo, by cowering at the first sign of trouble?' The other line of thinking just whimpered pitifully. 'Oh great,' she thought. 'Now I'm turning into Gollum.'

"Here!" one of the approaching Men called. "Here is where the smoke came from!"

"Twill be nigh at hand. In the fern, no doubt. We shall have it like a coney in a trap. Then we shall learn what kind of thing it is."

Jaden scoffed internally at the irony of being compared to a coney. For a split second she suddenly felt very sorry for the poor things Sam had cooked.

"Aye, and what it knows!" a third voice cried. After that Jaden pretty much just focused on the troubles at hand as other Men came out all around them.

All three cornered crusaders shared a glance. There was now no hope of hiding or escape.

Without warning, a firm boot slammed into Jaden's back. Rough, calloused hands grabbed her and jerked her onto her feet. The teen yelped, mostly from surprise and suddenly found herself looking up into the stern eyes of Faramir.

Faramir's men stood in a ring around the little space that had been a peaceful shelter only moments ago, armed with spears, long bows and swords. The tall warriors were clad in various shades and hues green and brown that made it look as if the woods themselves had spat them out and armed them with metal from the depths of the ground beneath the tree roots. Early morning sunlight glinted alike in their eyes and on the steel points of their spears and arrowheads. In truth, those glittering eyes were all that was visible of the actual flesh of the men, even Faramir himself bore the same hood, gauntlets and mask that his followers wore.

The eyes of these Men seemed to Jaden to hold and embody the very spirit of the word 'soldier'. There was no doubt that these men would die for their cause, or kill for it, undoubtedly, they already had. Reflections of past glories and horrors swirled just beyond sight behind the coloring or those mysterious eyes. Sorrow and anger rivaled for dominancy in the very souls of the weathered men before the young woman. Jaden found herself torn between awe, pity and fear as she stared up into the eyes she had no doubt belonged to Captain Faramir.

"And what is this you have caught, my lord?" one of the men asked. "Is it our coney, think you?"

Jaden was sure that in his lifetime Faramir had seen many things, both great and terrible, but she was equally sure that he had also never seen a teenage girl with extremely unusual hair come popping out of the bushes. A brief widening of the eyes and a quick flash of surprise confirmed these suspicions.

In the space of two heartbeats Frodo and Sam sprang to their feet and drew their swords to come to their friend's aid. In response to this sudden movement, maybe in surprise or maybe to simply free his hands for his sword, Faramir released Jaden with a slight push towards the other two intruders that had sprung from the grass.

"We have not found what we sought," one of the men said. "But what have we found?"

"Not orcs," commented the second.

"Elves?" the third asked with obvious doubt.

"Nay! Not Elves," Faramir, the fourth, replied. "Elves do not walk in Ithilien in these days. And Elves are wondrous fair to look upon, or so 'til said."

"Meaning we're not, I take you," Sam said indignantly. "Thank you kindly. And when you've finished discussing us, perhaps you'll say who _you_ are and why you can't let three tired travelers rest. "

Faramir laughed grimly and obliged the little Hobbit. For a moment though, Jaden felt a pang of loss at thinking about how that weary laugh might sound if It was placed in a gentler setting and relieved of the heavy burdens and cares it smacked of.

"I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor," he declared. "But there are no travelers in this land: only servants of the Dark Tower, or of the White."

"But we are neither," Frodo insisted. "And we are travelers, whatever Captain Faramir may say."

"Thenmake haste to declare yourselves and your errand," Faramir told him. "We have work to do, and this is no time or place for riddling or parleying. Come! Where is the fourth of your company?"

"The fourth?"

"Yes, the skulking fellow," Faramir frowned, his mistrust deepening. "He had an ill-favored look. Some spying breed of Orc, I guess, or a creature of theirs. But he gave us the slip by some fox-trick."

"I do not know where he is," Frodo said. "He is only a chance companion met upon our road, and I am not answerable for him. If you come on him, spare him. I have him under my care fo a while. But as for us, we are Hobbits of the Shire, and a young woman of the race of Men. Frodo son of Drogo is my name, with me is Samwise so of Hamfast, a worthy Hobbit of my service, and Jaden, a worthy lady from distant lands who joined our company in Rivendell." Faramir started and then focused deeply on what the Hobbit said even as his eyes darted untrusting glances as Jaden. "We left Rivendell with ten other companions: one we lost in Moria, a second was wounded and left in the care of the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, the others we left at Parth Galen above Rauros: two of my kin; a Dwarf there was also, and Elf, two women of Cardolan, and two Men. They were Aragorn and Boromir, who said that he came out of Minas Tirith, a city in the South."

"Boromir!" all four of the captors exclaimed (A/N: that's from the book, so don't you dare yell at me about it being cheesy. I always found this bit extremely funny, it always reminded me of some slapstick comedy routine where everyone says the same thing the same way at the same time. Anyway, on with the show!).

"Boromir son of the Lord Denethor?" Faramir demanded. A stern look like cold iron had settled onto his face. "You came with him? This is news indeed, if it be true. Know, little strangers, that Boromir was our Captain-General: sorely do we miss him. Who are you tin, and what had you to do with him? Be swift."

"Are the riddling words known to you that Boromir brought to Rivendell? _Seek for the Sword that was Broken. In Imladris it dwells_."

"The words are known indeed," Faramir answered in astonishment. "It is some token of your truth that you also know them."

"Aragorn whom I named is the bearer of the Sword that was Broken," Frodo explained. "And we are the Halflings that the rhyme spoke of."

"That I see," Faramir mused. "Or I see that it might be so. And what is Isildur's Bane?"

"That is hidden," Frodo stated. "Doubtless it will be made clear in time."

"We must know more of this," Faramir said. "But not now. We have business in hand. You are in peril. I will leave two to guard you, for your good and for mine. If I return, I will speak more with you."

"Farewell!" Frodo replied with a deep bow. "Think what you will, I am a friend of all enemies of the One Enemy. May the light shine on your swords!"

"The Halflings are courteous folk, whatever else they be," smirked Faramir. "Farewell!"

Frodo, Sam, and Jaden sat down once more under the shadows of the bay trees on the cushioning ferns and moss and fell silent, not speaking to each other of their own questions. Fears and worries about the meeting. Their two guards spoke with one another, at first in the Common Tongue and then in a slightly diluted form of Elvish, close by under similar cover. Bilbo's influence as a linguist was clear in Frodo as he watched and listened to the Gondorian Rangers with keen interest that made him look almost laughably like his beloved elder cousin.

Afer a space of the travelers watching the guards and the guards watching the travelers, Frodo finally leapt into their conversation. Then Men were careful with their words and guarded what they let slip to these odd strangers. As the hear of the day grew, the two men occasionally lowered their masks to cool their faces as well as the heavy cloth. During these times the three companions could see the noble faces of these proud Men.

Noble and pale features were framed by dark hair and accentuated by stern grey eyes. Yet there was enough pride in them to cause Jaden to doubt. Pride was, after all, the downfall of Men, the arrogant belief that one could beat all temptations, that Men were strong enough on their own to stand alone against something so evil and powerful as the One Ring. All it took was a little too much misplaced pride, a slight misjudgement, and the first step was taken on the road to evil. Jaden's heart and mind were cautious with these people, unsure whether or not this Faramir could be trusted. While pride was not always evil, it took a man of rare character to best both pride and greed in a situation like the one presented, where both were piqued to their greatest potency, and his family didn't have the best track record thus far. Perhaps, though, she would be pleasantly surprised with the version of Faramir she was now presented with. As Aragorn said, there was always hope.

Conversation with the Gondorians focused chiefly on the evils of the day and the general military tactics being used to defeat them. Evil seemed to come in three forms to these Men: things of Mordor, Southrons, and Haradrim. Jaden pitied these people who seemed to know nothing about anything outside of war and enemies you fought in war. Oh wait, that wasn't really fair, they also spoke a great deal of such great leaders among their own kind as Captain Faramir. At least they still had names besides their military ranks. For instance, the two Rangers assigned to protect them were called Mablung and Damrod.

From what the guards told Frodo, Jaden put together that which she already knew: they were setting an ambush for a large number of Southrons that were flaunting their way towards Mordor, confident that the Dark Lord and his armies that lived there would provide them protection from the puny Gondorians. Now they were going to teach them a lesson, and guess what lucky people got caught in the middle.

"Faramir leads now in all perilous ventures," Mablung said. "But his life is charmed, or fate spares him for some other end."

Jaden gave a wry half-smirk. The man had no idea. Oh yes, he had other things in store for him alright. She could only hope that she would not change that fate.

Suddenly Jaden wondered what fate had in store for _her_. Certainly, she controlled her own actions, but there would always be things beuond her control that she could not change or influence if she wanted to. Death was one of those things. She might be able to chose safer paths or not to go into Barad-Dur waving a bright red flag to draw attention, but one day she _would_ die. Even if she lived through the War of the Ring, old age would sneak up and her body would simply cease to work. It was a frightening thought, that she was ultimately not in control of her life. When she died, would she go to the after life of the Earth she had come from, or would she go to the halls of Middle-Earth's second life? It was strange to stop and think about death. No one every really discussed it under normal circumstances, probably because it was just one of those topics that made people universally uncomfortable. Was that because so few were sure what would happen to them at death?

Around her, the talk had wound down and silence had swallowed their strange little group as they waited and listened. Even the birds and insects seemed quieter than usual as they strained their ears in the mounting silence.

Sam went over to the edge of the bracken and looked out. He could see the small shapes of Men scurrying over the slope opposite their place, barely visible in their mottled green and brown disguises. The Hobbit's keen eyes still managed to pick them out as they hurried along, though, despite their camouflage. There were many more of them than the troop that had discovered him and his comrades. In a few minutes all of them had passed on out of sight and no trace could be seen that would testify to their having been there. The sun drifted higher above them and the day grew warmer. Afer awhile the shadows themselves shrank back towards whatever cast them, as if afraid of the climbing sun and its heat.

As the shadows receded, Sam crawled back to Frodo and Jaden. Bored and tired, he laid down beside his master and started to doze off.

Sometime later he was startled awake by what sounded like distant horns. The guards leapt to their feet and tensed beneath the trees. The horns rang out again suddenly in the heavy noon air. Shouts and cries of a distant battle accompanied the horn blows, originating from who knew where. Then the chaos erupted just above where they were hidden and the sounds became far more distinct and grotesque. It could no be told whether a clash from above found flesh or was foiled by an enemy sword or breastplate. Through the tumult a loud, strong voice rang out, shouting "_Gondor! Gondor!_"

"It sounds like a hundred blacksmiths all smithying together," Sam said over the roar to Frodo. "They're as near as I want them now."

"Nearer," Jaden said darkly.

Yet still the sounds dew closer. A meager handful of the ambushed soldiers broke free of the melee and made a dash for their lives. Damrod was giving them all a play by play of the unfolding action and Sam once again scooted up beside the two tall Men to get a first hand take on the fight.

Jaden found that her morbid sense of curiosity had no intention of letting her simply lean back in safety while so much was going on around her. Always one to be curious, she gradually slipped up behind Sam and peeked over his head as the Ithilien rangers chased the crimson-clad Southrons towards their hiding place. It seemed like a weird kind of perverted Christmas parade as the green chased after the red, hacking them down as they caught up little by little with the heavily armored men as their light leather defenses granted them greater freedom of movement and increased speed. Arrows shot through the air at a frantic rate after the fleeing men and many tumbled down on the grassy turf of Ithilien to never rise again. In short, it was a slaughter, the unwary and unprepared men of the South were no match in this foreign land against the disciplined mass of the native rangers whose ancestors had walked these hills since ancient times.

Without warning, one of the scarlet soldiers came tumbling and crashing through the saplings and brush just over their heads and went hurtling over the drop and into the fern. The two Gondorians gave the Southron nothing more than a swift glance before turning back to watch their friends and comrades fighting for their honor and home. Jaden and Sam gave the man far more attention. This soldier was dressed far more richly than the simple style of the rangers. He was decked out entirely in gold, violent red and a bronze corslet. However, instead of inspiring admiration for his fine decorations, all of the vain trappings only increased the garish horror of his broken corpse as if in mockery. The gleaming gold plaited into his hair as dulled by the blood that coated it and the dark locks in adorned. His fine brazen corslet was twisted and hacked along with the regal crimson robes beneath, leaving them in a state of pitiful tatters and shards. Perhaps the greatest mockery were the plain green feathers sticking out from the wooden shaft that barely protruded from just above a golden collar and the hilt of a shattered sword still clutched in his tanned hand.

Both unprepared gazers turned away from the dead body lying only a few feet away as quickly as their rebellious eyes would let them. Sam sat with a deep frown on his face, having never seen Men fighting Men before and thought deeply on how he didn't care for it in the slightest. To him there was a great difference between slaying a vicious Orc and killing a truly intelligent fellow being such as a Man. Jaden on the other hand was no stranger to the wars that constantly seemed to ever rage between the nations of Men. At home, it was impossible to turn on the news without seeing some report on the war her own country was fighting in, or witness through satellite footage of some terrible massacre by the terrorists on the other side of the world. Nonetheless, the vivid gruesomeness of the dead body sprawled so close to her was not something she was really prepared for. An attack of nausea twisted in her stomach and she snapped her eyes shut as she leaned back against the grassy embankment behind her. The sight of the dead Southron hung behind her eyelids and the nausea raged stronger in the pit of her stomach. She clenched her jaw and swore to herself that she would not throw up in front of these Rangers.

One of the others should have been here to do this, she thought. Maylin and Leigh had both endured more scratches and gashes than she had and generally didn't mind the sight of blood that much. In fact, Leigh actually got a weird, masochistic pleasure from showing off her latest wounds to her buddies every time she managed to harm herself again in some bizarre manner. Maylin had a gift of hurting herself with kitchen appliances and other common household items and then displaying the impressive scars off to her friends. Any of them, except maybe Jack, would have done better in this situation. They were all off fighting at Helm's Deep probably for pity's sake!

With these thoughts came unbidden images of her dear friends. It was getting annoying how often they seemed to pop up when she was in a jam or having issues. To the extent of her knowledge Frodo and Sam didn't really think of Merry and Pippin all that often if ever. Why did it _always_ have to be her? She was already a teenager for crying out loud! She had enough issues to deal with already! Jaden's bottom lip trembled in response to the turmoil roaring inside of her and her eyelashes became suspiciously wet. 'No!' she yelled internally. 'I can't cry here! I'm not a weakling, I will NOT cry!'

The Valar seemed to have heard her pleas, for in the next instant there came a tremor through the earth that resembled a faster version of the beat of the Tyrannosaurus Rex's feet from Jurassic Park. Mablung had just begun to go over to the body of the fallen Southron to double check for safety's sake when the thuds became really noticeable and a shrill sound like a trumpet rent the air.

"Ware! Ware!" Damrod shouted to his brother in arms. "May the Valar turn him aside! Mumak! Mumak!

Jaden looked first at Sam's face as the fabled creature tromped through the trees towards them. The little Hobbit had a funny mix of astonishment, terror and boyish delight bouncing across his face as he first beheld his Oliphaunt. Jaden's thoughts were distracted at least for the moment by Sam's amusing expressions and she forced herself to look up and away from him to see the Mumak for herself.

The thing made elephants look like wee little stuffed animals and Jaden was quite sure that she would never be able to respect any she saw in zoos ever again. Also, unlike the elephants of her native world, this thing had no qualms about squashing people that happened to be in its path. Hannibal would have killed to get a couple of those for his army. The thing before her now fit Sam's little rhyme from the Shire perfectly: grey as a mouse, big as a house. Of course... it also kinda depended on _what_ house you were talking about, but either way, this thing could beat the snot out of any mammoth that dared cross its path. Presently, the massive beast was raging, probably due to some arrow pin-pricks, and smashed through any group of men that stood in its way, be they on the enemy side or not. The poor rider clutching desperately to the thing's neck was a rather comical figure... or would have been if the Mumak wasn't headed straight towards them. In the nick of time the mumak swerved, undoubtedly _not_ due to any effort of the helpless rider.

When the thing had passed Jaden started breathing again, surprised to find that she had been holding her breath for quite some time. As she gulped in air she distantly thought about a passage from the book. The passage said that Sam never found out what happened to the enraged Oliphaunt. It could have charged straight to the river or wandered till it starved to death or any number of things, but he never knew for sure. Really, Jaden wondered _why_ he would want to find out. What was he going to do, stick that thing in a local petting zoo?

"An Oliphaunt it was!" Sam said in reverence. "So there are Oliphaunts, and I have seen one. What a life! But no one at home will ever believe me. Well, if that's over, I'll have a bit of sleep."

"Again?" Jaden snickered.

"Sleep while you may," Mablung said to the Hobbit. "But the Captain will return, if he is unhurt; and when he comes we shall depart swiftly."

"Go quietly when you must!" Sam said. "No need to disturb my sleep. I was walking all night."

Mablung laughed at the little man. "I do not think the Captain will leave you here, Master Samwise," he told him. "But you shall see."

A/N: Was is short? Yes. Did it lack action? Yes. Was it insightful in anyway? Doubtful. Did you like it? Reviewer types in answer here. Say bunjee jumping (THAT's spelled wrong...) in your review if you have read this! Don't if you haven't gives cheeky smirk. Thankees and for the love of the desperate author, REVIEW!


	29. Chimes in the Breeze

Disclaimer: Read my lips: I. Do. Not. Own. The. Lord. Of. The. Rings! I do own the Four, though, so please don't steal them!

A/N: Sorry this took awhile to get up, but I am, once again, sick. Oh, yes, and I have a voice recital coming up that I really, REALLY, need to practice for and can't really when I can't even breathe through my nose. AHHHHHRRRRGGGG! I apologize if this chapter is a little short, but I figured I had kept you guys waiting long enough. I am suffering from writer's block, so this bit, which is kinda boring anyways, was a royal pain to write. Believe me when I say that it does get better after this point! I have been asked if I will be doing the whole Faramir/ Eowyn thing and the answer is, yes. When the time comes, there shall be a loverly ship! I have talked enough, on with the fic!

Chimes in the Breeze

The day drew on and after a good amount more of eating, smoking and talking, the reunited members of the Fellowship finally rose from Merry and Pippin's guard tower. They remounted their horses at a length with Merry and Pippin riding with Jack. With the growing heat of the sun, the reek from the slimy water increased. Leigh gave a little yelp and the rest of the company turned to her.

"It's nothing," she blushed. "Just some mosquitoes."

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," Maylin snorted. "Those pests are evil, I'm sure of it."

"The precursors to vampires," Jack nodded. "Dirty blood-suckers."

"What's a vampire?" Merry asked as he swatted one of the pesky devils.

"They were creations of Morgoth, just as the balrogs were," Legolas told the little Hobbit.

"Wait," Jack frowned. "You have vampires here?"

"_Had_ vampires," Leigh laughed at the fear in Jack's voice. "As far as I know only one was ever mentioned by name, and there is no mention of them after the fall of Morgoth."

"Of course," Maylin grinned deviously, "they _do_ still have werewolves."

"Pardon?" Jack blanched.

"Didn't you get that, Jack?" Leigh asked innocently. "Those wolves that attacked us on the mountain were werewolves."

"And how, pray tell, are you so sure of that?" Pippin asked.

"It seems all of the fraidy-cats were put on the same horse," Leigh commented.

"You know how Gandalf yelled?" Maylin asked. The three boys nodded. "Well, pretty much what he said was 'fire take the werewolves', and there are two different words in Elvish for 'wolf' and 'werewolf'. So we're pretty sure."

"Wow," Jack said. "I fought werewolves."

"Yeah, Jack," Leigh rolled her eyes. "You're a regular Van Helsing."

Maylin snickered and Jack took his turn to blush in embarrassment.

The Hobbits warned each 'driver' as they crossed the large expanse of water of lose rocks and slabs of stone that would flip them into the great pits below. With this added degree of caution, the journey over to Gandalf and the King's company was greatly slowed for safety's sake. The water had been fouled by the greasy contraptions of Saruman and the filth of the Orcs as it sat and soaked up the slimy residue of Isengard. Whenever the horses' hooves splashed up a few drops of water onto the Elvish clothes of the three 'prophets' or the bare feet of the Hobbits they winced, wondering just was nasty sludge they were now bearing around with them. The battle perhaps had been a glorious spectacle, but the aftermath was not. Splintered beams and rusty, convoluted frames of iron still managed to stay partly above water and looked like the very bones of Isengard twisted and smashed and left to rot in the stinking mire that had once been covered by mighty trees. Now those same trees' limbs and bows were tossed helter-skelter around the park like so many toothpicks. The only ones who didn't really feel much grief at such a foolish and awful ruin of such beauty were Merry and Pippin, who had been seeing this same view for quite awhile now and were perfectly used to destruction on such a massive scale, were the only ones who didn't seem affected in some way by the devastation.

Gimli had conjured up his Dwarvish bravado and was carrying on a conversation, or rather argument, with Gandalf. It never failed to amaze Jack how the sturdy Dwarf could throw on that warrior persona in a moment's notice. He was still as curious as ever, though, and stated that he wished to come with Gandalf to see if Saruman looked like the other White Wizard. As always, Gandalf clamped a dampener down on his curious interest by informing him that, if he should wish it, Saruman could appear as many things to him.

The gathered company rode together to the foot of the black stairs that led up to the door into Orthanc. Above them, the shady tower rose to heights that would have otherwise been thought impossible to achieve without the aid of modern technology, but then, there were so many secrets and mysteries in Middle-Earth that the three foreigners would most likely never be able to learn or master so much as a fifth of them before their times came to leave, by death, sail, or mystic power. The black rock looked like it had been soaked to the tips of its lofty crest by the waters that had now gathered in puddles about its base and gleamed smartly in the sunlight. Windows peeped out all along the height of the brooding tower and glanced down at the mess below. There were horns protruding around the rugged angles of the walls that looked as if they might be able to impale anyone who took a tumble from the high platform at the top of the tower. The flight of stairs before them led to the one and only entrance into Orthanc: the front door. These were shut firmly, like a child hiding its head under the covers in a vain hope that the boogey-man wouldn't see him, it was almost amusing, this last effort of defense. It seemed to have worked, though, because the Ents had been unable to breach the solid and immovable stone. Above the great doors there was a single window that led to a balcony flanked by iron bars, it was far too high be reached by those on the ground, though.

"I will go up," Gandalf announced as he dismounted. "I have been in Orthanc before and I know my peril."

"And I too will go up," Theoden declared. "I wish to speak with the enemy who has done me so much wrong. Eomer shall come with me, and see that my aged feet do not falter."

"As you will," Gandalf said. "Aragorn and the three Travelers shall come with me. Let the others await us at the foot of the stairs. They will hear and see enough, if there is anything to hear or see."

"Nay!" Gimli bellowed. "Legolas and I wish for a closer view. I alone represent my kindred, and Legolas here has blood royal enough to take part in any meeting of importance. We also will come behind."

"I should also like to come," Boromir said. "My blood may not be as royal as that of Legolas, but I am still the son of the Steward."

"Come then!" Gandalf said, and he began to climb the steps up towards the door. Then he paused for a moment and beckoned the three strangers to him. "Guard your words well," he warned them in low tones. "I doubt not that he knows well of your knowledge and will seek even now to grasp some part of it himself. Do not speak to him if it can be avoided, he will gather much from a simple phrase."

All three nodded and semiconsciously drifted towards the back of the pack along with Legolas and Gimli. Boromir had taken his place just behind Aragorn, a symbol of the growing fealty he was expressing towards his true king. Gandalf strode up purposefully and beat the heavy doors sternly with his staff. Maylin was reminded of how the same Wizard had pounded on another, smaller, greener door in times past. Somehow she got the impression, though, that this wasn't going to be some sweet little chat over tea.

"Saruman!" Gandalf shouted. "Saruman, come forth!"

After an unnecessarily long span of time, the bolt could be heard dragging free from the shutters over the windows above. There was an uneasy pause and then a small voice called down to them even though no figure showed themselves.

"Who is it?" the pathetic little voice whimpered. "What do you wish?"

Leigh and Jack exchanged an amused glance.

'Who is it?' Leigh mouthed with lifted eyebrows. Both were shocked by the silliness to the point just past laughter where all the mirth is contained inside and keeps in all of the humor.

"I know that voice," Theoden started, "and I curse the day when I first listened to it."

"Go and fetch Saruman, since you have become his footman, Grima Wormtongue!" Gandalf ordered. "And do not waste our time!"

The window closed again and those before the door waited in an anxious silence to see if Saruman of Many Colors would dare to speak with Gandalf and all those with him. Without actually realizing that they were doing it, Leigh, Jack and Maylin slid their hands together so they were standing in a united huddle next to the Dwarf and his axe, Legolas might be considered part of the chain seeing as how he was also holding Maylin's hand.

Smoothly, a voice broke the trance, or rather tried to start another. It felt like slipping slowly into a pool of warm water while listening to the powerful thunder of the ocean's waves and the delicate tinkles of wind chimes.

'Wind chimes,' Jack forced himself to think. 'It's like wind chimes, and wind chimes are blown around by the wind, so he's just a big bag of wind, he can't control you.'

Maylin shrunk slightly closer to Legolas, but found to her deep delight that her Elven capabilities seemed to extend to a little shield against mind control as well. Reassured, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Time to show this jerk just what kind of people he had messed with.

Anger surged through Leigh's mind when she first felt the gentle brush of Saruman's voice. That imbecile was actually trying to sink his hooks into her mind and that made her really, _really_ mad. Her mind was her own territory, and this guy was up for a rude awakening if he thought he could win that easily. No more Miss Nice Prophet.

"Well?" the cooing voice asked. "Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no peace at all by night or day?"

They all looked up as one and found him standing on the balcony above them. Not even the Elves had heard or seen him come. He was certainly old, and it suddenly seemed such a great loss for one who had reaped such knowledge to have now descended so low beyond his once-lofty morals. A great cloak shielded him much from their eyes and confused them, for, with every movement from him or shift of their own eyes, the color of the fabric changed and warped. Once upon a time, the bold, high features that were etched onto his face might have been called noble, with dark eyes that seemed to hold vast libraries of knowledge pertaining to mysteries Mankind had long sought the answer to. The white beard he bore and the long ivory hair that floated down from his scalp were pure as snow save for a few smudges of black around his lips and ears.

"Like, and yet unlike," Gimli murmured. Jack nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Never before had he seen someone so powerful and evil that bore the goodly traits of a Wizard.

"But come now!" Saruman said. "Two of you at least I know by name. You, Theoden Lord of the Mark of Rohan, are declared by your noble devices, and still more by the fair countenance of the House of Eorl. Why have you not come before, and as a friend? What have you to say, Theoden King? Will you have peace with me, and all the aid that my knowledge, founded in long years, can bring? Shall we make our counsels together against evil days, and repair our injuries with such good will that our estates shall both come to fairer flower than ever before?"

The King was silent, it could not be told wether he paused in anger or doubt of his own knowledge.

"Lord, hear me!" Eomer cried to his uncle. "Now we feel the peril that we were warned of. Have we ridden forth to victory, only to stand at last amazed by an old liar with honey on his forked tongue? What aid can he give you? All he desires is to escape from his plight. Remember Theodred at the Fords, and the grave of Hama in Helm's Deep!"

"If we speak of poisoned tongues what shall we say of yours, young serpent?" Saruman spat, his cool, easy demeanor gone. After a fleeting moment, though, the look had passed and his sweet tones were once again fixed on Theoden.

"If I am a murdered on account of those who died in war, then all the House of Eorl is stained with murder; for they have fought many wars. Yet with some they have afterwards made peace, none the worse for being politic. I say, Theoden King: shall we have peace and friendship, you and I?"

"We will have peace," Theoden ground out with much effort. "Yes, we will have peace," he continued in a much clearer voice. "We will have peace when you and all your works have perished. Even if your war on me was just, even so, what will you say of your torches in Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Hama's body before the gates of Hornburg, after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. I fear your voice has lost its charm."

For a moment those with the King were afraid that Saruman would somehow smite him with his staff, for the look of wrath on his face was terrible.

"Gibbets and crows!" he hissed. "Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the dogs?" After that he seemed to collect himself again to some extent.

"And you, Gandalf! For you at least I am grieved, feeling for your shame. How comes it that you can endure such company? For you are proud, Gandalf- and not without reason. Even now will you not listen to my counsel?"

"What have you to say that you did not say at our last meeting?" Gandalf asked. "Or, perhaps, you have things to unsay?"

Jack snickered. He didn't mean to, really, it was just so funny to see this 'great' wizard having his grand speeches blasted to bits so suddenly by those he thought he held so much sway over.

The cornered wizard turned and now brought the three Travelers under his angered gaze.

"And what are these youths doing here, riding with those above even their own pitiful station?" he snarled. "Do you think that a change of view, or change of company, can alter your lots in life?"

"No," Leigh snorted, "but apparently you did."

"One must wonder what so _wise_ and _powerful_ a wizard would want with a few 'youths'," Maylin chimed in. None of them doubted that Saruman had played some part in their coming to Middle-Earth, and at the moment, they didn't care how large or small that part had been; they wanted revenge for all the sufferings the had seen and experienced. If there was one thing teenagers were good at, it was arguing a point.

"So the man lets the women speak in his stead, then?" Saruman smirked at Jack. "A more piteous sight I have rarely seen. You are simply a mere plucker of strings, a worthless minstrel that hides behind women's skirts."

"I pluck the string of a bow, indeed," Jack replied. "And I have been told that I am no mean shot. Perhaps you would like a demonstration?"

"Despite your empty brays, you are still young and foolish to think that you can best me," Saruman growled. "If I am not mistaken, there was a fourth to your little band, was there not? What, pray tell me, has become of your other friend? Do you even know, really? Or did you watch her die?"

"Funny that you should wonder about knowing the future," Leigh laughed. "Does it ever haunt you at night that we _youths_ know your fate, Saruman the _wise_. A word of advice for you then. Do not ask questions that you are afraid to hear answered. You played with the fires of time, and we are the flames sent to burn you. Sleep well, sir, knowing that your end is known to those that are so far beneath you, and eagerly anticipated by the same."

More than a few jaws were more than slightly open that the fierce attack of the fair-haired girl. Those who did not know her well were all the more surprised by her outburst, but those who knew her, perhaps, had seen the sparks kindling and knew the extent of her anger.

Gandalf threw back his head and laughed, shattering the silence that had frozen over the stairs.

"Saruman, Saruman!" he said as he laughed. "You missed your path in life. You should have been the king's jester and earned your bread by mimicking his counselors. Ah me! The young lady has spoken with the anger and wrath of a friend roused by the mention of another friend's plight, and she has left the wizard of Orthanc at a loss! Truly, Saruman, you should not toy with those whose knowledge is greater of the dealings of the world than your own. But listen, Saruman, for the last time! Will you not come down? Isengard has proved less strong than your hope and fance made it. Would it not be well to leave it for a while? To turn to new things, perhaps? Think well, Saruman! Will you not come down?"

"Will I come down?" Saruman mocked. "Does an unarmed man come down to speak with robbers out of doors? I cna hear you well enough here. I am no fool, Gandalf."

"The treacherous are ever distrustful," Gandalf muttered. "I do not wish to kill you, or hurt you, as you would know, if you really understood me. I am giving you a last chance. You can leave Orthanc free- if you choose."

"That sounds well," Saruman sneered. "Very much in the manner of Gandalf the Grey: so condescending, and so very kind. But why should I wish to leave? And what do you mean by 'free'? There are conditions, I presume?"

"Reasons for leaving you can see from your windows," Gandalf pointed out. "Others will occur to your thought. But when I say 'free', I mean 'free': free from bond. Of chain or command: to go where you will, even, to Mordor if you desire. But you will first surrender to me the Key of Orthanc, and your staff."

Saruman's face grew livid with rage, and a red gleam kindled in his eyes.

"Do not be a fool!" he shouted. "If you wish to treat with me, while you have a chance, go away, and come back when you're sober! And leave behind these cut-throats and small rag-tag that dangle at your tail! Good day!" With that, he turned and left the balcony.

"Come back, Saruman!" Gandalf ordered. To the shock and awe of all present (minus the three teens), Saruman complied. He turned and slowly came back to the rail, as if he were fighting for control over his own body.

"I did not give you leave to go," Gandalf said sternly. "I have not finished. You have become a fool, Saruman, and yet pitiable. You might still have turned away from folly and evil. But you choose to stay and gnaw at the ends of your old plots. Stay then! But I warn you, you will not easily come out again. Behold, I am not Gandalf the Grey, whom you betrayed. I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death. You have no color now, and I cast you from the order and from the Council." He raised his hand. "Saruman, your staff is broken."

A crack split the air and the head of Saruman's staff tumbled down to land at Gandalf's feet.. "Go!" he ordered. Saruman, utterly defeated, fell away from the rail with a cry and crawled away into the tower, his prison.

At that same instant, something hurtled down towards the party on the stairs and shattered the iron rail of the balcony on its way down. The object came close to Gandalf's head, but missed and crashed to the stairs beside him. Glittering sparks erupted on impact and the crystal globe rolled down the stairs. Pippin hurried over and snatched it up before it slipped into one of the puddles.

"The murderous rogue!" Eomer cried. Gandalf wasn't fazed in the least by the incident, though.

"No, that was not thrown by Saruman," he said, "nor even at his bidding, I think. It came from a window far above. A parting shot from Master Wormtongue, I fancy, but ill aimed."

"The aim was poor, maybe, because he could not make up his mind which he hated more, you or Saruman," Aragorn suggested.

"That may be so," Gandalf nodded. "Small comfort will those two have in their companionship: they will gnaw one another with words. But the punishment is just. If Wormtongue ever comes out of Orthanc alive, it will be more than he deserves." Then he saw Pippin trudging up the stairs and carrying the Palantir with him. "Here, my lad, I'll take that!" he exclaimed. He snatched it up hastily and wrapped it in the folds of his cloak. "I will take care of this," he said. "It is not a thing, I guess, that Saruman would have chosen to cast away."

"But he may have other things to cast," Gimli observed as he looked up at the many windows above them. "If that is the end of the debate, let us go out of stone's throw, at least!"

"It is the end," Gandalf sighed. "Let us go."

A/N: Just so you know, I will be driving all shipper groups royally insane pretty soon. Evil grin Ah, yes, this shall be fun! As always, say whatever's on your mind, just so long as you say it in a review! Thanks! If you have read this note say 'hop toad' in your review! Thank you all very much!


	30. Goings

Disclaimer: Hey! We know about me! What about YOU? Do you own the Lord of the Rings? Do ya? Do ya? DO YA? Well I don't.

A/N: Hello again! It is SO not my fault that this took so long. I have one week after this left in school, so I'm cramming to get everything done, oh yeah! and I have a voice recital this Saturday... right after I had a bad cold! AHHHHH! Yeah, so, that's my life at present. Enjoy the update!

Goings

Jaden stayed awake for quite some time after the mumak passed. Partly, it had to do with the fact that she was more than a little uneasy about being so near a battle, the last one she had been part of Jack had been shish-kabobbed by the pointy end of a spear. Of course, there was also the fact that the fate of an entire world could be messed up irreversibly if she let slip so much as one word too many on the wrong topic, and she wasn't wonderfully keen on risking talking in her sleep.

Sam had no such qualms, it seemed. The moment that the immediate threat of the oliphaunt had passed, he had popped off like a toddler. It wasn't fair, that's what it was.

Eventually, the sun drooped down towards the west and turned from its fair gold coloring to a hazy red that shimmered through the rising heat. As the sun sank, Captain Faramir returned with all those of his men that had survived. The Men sat in a half-circle on the slope, while Faramir sat before them on the dry green grass. Two grim Rangers strode up and conducted Frodo over to the stand before the seated tribunal.

The air was sticky with the pent-up tension emanating from both the men and their unfortunate captives. There was little doubt that the true purpose of this gathering was to interrogate the prisoners, or at least their leader.

Even with Faramir's harsher tones and the threatening presence of his Rangers, Frodo performed wonderfully. The Hobbit was wise, he didn't try to weave delicate webs of deceit or present falsehoods concerning certain details, he simply left a few things out, or played them down dramatically. There were only four things that were not quite passing Faramir's internal lie detector, and they were: what Frodo had to do in the Fellowship that set out from Rivendell, why he left Boromir, where he was going, and what exactly Jaden, Leigh, Maylin and Jack had to do with everything. Faramir continually pounded on the topic of 'Isildur's Bane, finding that this seemed to be Frodo's weak spot. Oh, too true.

"It was the Halfling's coming that would awaken Isildur's Bane, or so one would think by the words," Faramir insisted, referring once again to Boromir's riddling dream. "If you are the Halfling that was named, doubtless you brought this thing, whatever it is, to the Council of which you speak, and there Boromir saw it. Do you deny it?"

Frodo didn't say a word, he knew all too well that one slip could be his, and his friends', death sentence, and a lie would bring a sword down on his head as speedily as the truth might.

"So!" Faramir said. "I wish then to learn from you more of it; for what concerns Boromir concerns me. Had you this thing in your keeping? It is hidden, you say; but is not that because you choose to hide it?"

"No, not because I choose," Frodo replied. Jaden winced as he spoke, she could feel the raw pain that the little Hobbit had endured just by hearing him say those words. "It does not belong to me. It does not belong to any mortal, great or small. If you return to your city, you may soon find your answers there. When last I say Boromir, at the Falls of Rauros, he intended to come straight to Minas Tirith. He may have passed through the gates days ago."

"So!" Faramir said. "You bid me mind my own affairs, and get me back home, and let you be. Boromir will tell all, when he comes. When he comes, say you! Were you a friend of Boromir?"

There was a dreadful pause, and Jaden could almost see Frodo's last meeting with Boromir play out across his eyes.

"Boromir was a valient member of our Company," he said at a length. "Yes, I was his friend, for my part."

"Then you grieve to learn that Boromir is dead?" Faramir asked with a grim smile, as if he had found out something that he suspected but did not truly wish to verify.

"Dead?" Frodo faltered. "Do you meant that he _is_ dead, and that you knew it? Or are you now trying to snare me with a falsehood?"

"I would not snare even an Orc with a falsehood," Faramir said.

"How then did he die, and how do you know of it? Since you say that none of the Company had reached the city when you left."

Jaden started as a hand fell on her shoulder. Her eyes swept up to meet Sam's caring gaze boring into her.

"I'm sure the others are fine, Jay," he whispered.

With a bit of effort, Jaden gave a weak, little half-smile. "Thanks," she said. "I'm sure they are too." Liar!

"As to the manner of his death," Faramir said icily, "I had hoped that his friend and companion would tell me."

"But he was alive and strong when we parted," Frodo objected. "And lives still for all I know. Though surely there are many perils in the world."

"Many indeed," Faramir agreed, "and treachery not the least."

Poor Sam just couldn't take any more master-bashing and he burst from the shrubs and marched up to his master's side. Jaden stayed put. There was no need to draw any more attention to herself than was absolutely necessary.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, "but this has gone on long enough. He's no right to talk to you like that. After all you've gone through, as much for his good and all these great Men as for anyone else.

"See here, Captain!" Sam said as he firmly placed himself before the Gondorian captain. Despite all that was going on, and all the risks, Jaden had to fight to keep the giggles at bay at the sight of Sam's face. He might as well have been looking at a youngster that had just been giving him some lip. A few of the Rangers were getting a kick out of the situation too, evidently they did not usually see their captain sitting on the ground, thus eye-level, with an indignant Hobbit who looked like he was ready to pop with wrath at the accusations and assumptions of the man before him. "See here!" he said. "What are you driving at? Let's come to the point before all the Orcs of Mordor come down on us! If you think my master murdered this Boromir and then ran away, you've got no sense; but say it, and have done! And then let us know what you mean to do about it. But it's a pity that folk as talk about fighting the Enemy can't let others do their bit in their own way without interfering. He'd be mighty pleased, if he could see you now. Think he'd got a new friend, he would."

"Patience," Faramir said to the irrate Hobbit, his voice devoid of anger. "Do not speak before your master, whose wit is greater than yours. Were I as hasty as you, I might have slain you long ago. But I do not slay man or beast needlessly, and not gladly even when needed. Neither do I talk in vain. So be comforted. Sit by your master and be silent!"

Once Sam had flopped down beside Frodo, still with a rather red face, Faramir turned his attention once again to the master of the threesome. "You asked how do I know that the son of Denethor is dead. Tidings of death have many wings. _Night oft brings news to near kindred_, 'tis said. Boromir was my brother.

"Do you remember aught of special mark that the Lord Boromir bore with him among his gear?"

Frodo paused, clearly sifting through the Man's words to see if he was laying another trap for him in his words. But, while the two brothers seemed very much alike in looks, Frodo sensed, deep down in his soul, that this man had less pride and greater wisdom. "I remember that Boromir bore a horn," he answered.

"You remember well," Faramir nodded, "and as one who has in truth seen him. That horn the eldest son of our house has borne for many generations; and it is said that if it be blown at need anywhere within the bounds of Gondor, as the realm was of old, its voice will not pass unheaded.

"Five days ere I set out on this venture, I heard the blowing of that horn: from the northward it seemed, but dim, as if it were but an echo in the mind. A boding of ill we thought it, my father and I, for no tidings had we heard of Boromir since he went away. The horn of Boromir at least returned to Minas Tirith. The horn came, but it was cloven in two, as it were by axe or sword. The shards came severally to shore: one was found among the reeds where watchers of Gondor lay; the other was found spinning on the flood by one who had an errand on the water.

"And now the horn of the elder son lies in two pieces upon the lap of Denethor, sitting in his chair, waiting for news. And you can tell me nothing of the cleaving of the horn?"

"No," Frodo shook his head, "I did not know of it. But now your tale fills me with dread. For if Boromir was then in peril and was slain, I must fear that all my companions perished too. And they were my kindred and my friends.

"Will you not put aside your doubt of me and let me go? I am weary, and full of grief, and afraid. But I have a deed to do, or to attempt, before I too am slain. And the more need of haste, if we two halflings are all that remain of our Fellowship.

"Go back, Faramir, valiant Captain of Gondor, and defend your city while you may, and let me go where my doom takes me."

"Whatever befell on the North March, you, Frodo, I doubt no longer," Faramir said. "If hard days have made me any judge of Men's words and faces, then I may make a guess at Halflings! Though," he smiled, "there is something strange about you, Frodo, and Elvish air, maybe. I should now take you back to Minas Tirith, to answer there to Denethor, and my life is justly forfeit if I now choose a course that proves ill for my city. So I will not decide in haste what is to be done. Yet we must move hence without more delay."

With the agility of a man who spends his entire life in motion, Faramir hopped to his feet and began issuing orders to the band around him. Little groups broke off and left, merging into the gloomy twilight like ghosts. By the time the Captain had finished, only good old Mablung and Damrod were left with them.

"Now you, Frodo, Samwise and lady Jaden, will come with me and my guards," Faramir announced. "You cannot go along the road southwards, if that was your purpose. It will be unsafe for some days, and always more closely watched after this affray than it has been yet. And you cannot, I think, go far today in any case, for you are weary. And so are we. We are going now to a secret place we have, somewhat less than ten miles from here. There we may lie and rest for a while, and you with us. In the morning, I will decide what is best for me to do, and for you."

Now that Jaden wasn't hanging on every word that was spoken and comparing it with how she knew the book roughly went, she had to time to think... and panic. Faramir had left out something, something very, _very_ important. He had not mentioned seeing Boromir pass by on the river in the Elven boat. After years of hanging around Leigh and Maylin, a bit of basic Lord of the Rings psychology and theory and been beaten into her brain. It had always been open to debate whether the boat's passing was just a vision or whether it had actually floated by on the river, but, either way, it was universally agreed that this happened due to Boromir's death, duh. Well, if that definite proof had not occurred, then there was a problem. There were only two possible reasons for this grand vision not coming to Faramir: a) someone, most likely Leigh, had done something incredibly stupid, and Boromir was not, in fact, dead, or b) Boromir _had_ died, but everyone else had died with him, thus, there was no one to put him in the boat and give him a push down the river to eternity. Neither option was a very good thing for the home team. To be brutally honest, Boromir was supposed to DIE, and it would REALLY mess things up if he didn't. On the other hand, if everyone else was dead as well, then the world wasn't going to be too cheery a place in the end, anyway, even if the Ring was destroyed. In short: there was trouble in River City.

Mablung and Damrod walked a short ways ahead of their captain and captured travelers. Whether Faramir had dropped a hint, or they simply knew from instinct after so many years of service, they stayed close enough to still be of use should their little company come under attack, but far enough away that they would not overhear anything said in hushed tones between those behind them.

The sun slowly vanished beneath the line of the horizon, and it last, fiery rays were cut off abruptly by the hills. All of the wild plants that had been lit by an unearthly and arcane crimson glow only moments before had slipped into the grey realm of twilight that seeped their colors and muted even the shadows; a grey time, a transition from day to night. How fitting that this should be the time that the true colors of Faramir should be shown, here, alone in the wilds that he governed almost like Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men. This was the 'grey section' the foggy middle-ground between good and evil that so many drifted in, unsure of their beliefs or standings. Would this be the end? Was this what Jaden had abandoned her closest friends for? Was it all in vain, or had she ruined their only chance?

Even as the queer troop left the stairs of Orthanc, the conversation gave no hint of stopping, or even pausing for that matter. Everyone's favorite Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, were giving voice to every single thought or question they had concerning the meeting, considering as how they hadn't been able to exactly take place in it personally.

"But what will you do to Saruman if Sauron does not win?" Pippin asked.

"I? Nothing! I will do nothing to him," Gandalf exclaimed. Seeming to sense the next barrage of questions, he leapt ahead to answer what the little lads were sure to ask next. "What will become of him? I cannot say. I grieve that so much that was good now festers in the tower. Still, for us things have not gone badly. Strange are the turns of fortune! Often does hatred hurt itself! I guess that, even if we had entered in, we could have found few treasures in Orthanc more precious than the thing which Wormtongue threw down at us."

A shriek split the air for a good distance around the black obelisk rising from the wreck of Isengard. All three of the young people turned to each other, biting their lips or trying to suppress an insistent twitch that announced a rebellious smiles. Honestly, they had no idea what Saruman, in his utter rage might have just done to Grima, but, to be brutally honest, after all he had done, the perverse nature of fate was just too much for them to handle. Gandalf didn't even look back, but kept his eyes trained ahead.

"It seems that Saruman thinks so too," Gandalf remarked. All three travelers were beginning to understand the wizard's hinting, subtle sense of humor. There could be no doubt that Gandalf appreciated the comical irony of the mess Saruman was now in, and Grima's inept stupidity. "Let us leave them!"

After that the Hobbits seemed to finally grasp the concept of silence. Neither of them uttered a single syllable, it seemed that the shriek over the missing globe had pricked enough internal enjoyment, that there was no need to debate it with others. This was a momentous event for one of the furry-footed people.

They splashed and plodded back after Gandalf's parting remark to the once-worked gate that now served as a simple breech in the wall. Directly after passing under the arch, they saw Treebeard and a group of roughly a dozen Ents standing around the bountiful rubble, waiting for them.

"Here are six of my companions, Treebeard," Gandalf announced. "I have spoken of them, but you have not seen them." Then he named them one by one.

The old Ent looked long and carefully at each of the remaining Fellowship members, almost as if he was searching for something. Last of all, he turned to Legolas. "So you have come all the way from Mirkwood, my good Elf? A very great forest it used to be!"

"And still is," Legolas agreed. "But not so great that we who dwell there ever tire of seeing new trees. I should dearly love to journey in Fangorn's Wood. I scarcely passed beyond the eaves of it, and I did no wish to turn back."

"THAT's an understatement." Leigh whispered over to Jack. The boy snickered.

Treebeard, however did not seem to notice and his amber eyes beamed down at the Elf prince before him with joy and pride for his forest, or a combination of both. "I hope you may have your wish, ere the hills be much older," he rumbled in pleasure.

"I will come, if I have the fortune," Legolas said. "I have made a bargain with my friend that, if all goes well, we will visit Fangorn together- by your leave."

"Any Elf that comes with you will be welcome," Treebeard said, his eyes drifting down to Maylin.

"The friend I speak of is not an Elf," Legolas replied. "I mean Gimli, Gloin's son here."

The Dwarf in question bowed low before the hulking tree-thing and, by ill luck, his axe slipped from his belt and clattered to the ground.

"Hoom, hm! Ah now," Treebeard recoiled, drawing himself up to his full height, which was quite impressive. The look he was giving the poor Dwarf was FAR from amiable. "A Dwarf and an awe-bearer! Hoom! I have good will with the Elves; but you ask much. This is a strange friendship!"

"Strange it may seem," Legolas said firmly, "but while Gimli lives I shall not come to Fangorn alone. His axe is not for trees, but for Orc-necks. Forty-two he hewed in the battle."

"Hoo! Come now!" Treebeard said. "That is a better story!" Without any conversational shift or warning, the great Ent had suddenly turned his attention to the three Travelers.

"And these must be the little wanderers," Treebeard smiled kindly. "Much may you do for our world, and much you have already done. What think you of Fangorn?"

"Well..." Leigh frowned. "Fangorn is like a nursing home filled with grouchy old men that used to be in the military; so it's probably not the best place to pick a fight. Thus: it's very lovely."

There was an awful pause and Maylin wondered if she was about to see her buddy get squashed beneath an Ent's 'foot'. Then suddenly, Treebeard reared his mossy head back and bellowed a hearty laugh.

"An honest answer," he guffawed. "That is the most I could ask for from one so young. And you others?"

"It's big," Jack said, wide-eyed. "And... thank you for not squashing Leigh." Treebeard chuckled.

"I think it's awesome," Maylin put in, "whatever _those two_ say. I haven't seen anything like it before."

"Of course," Aragorn smirked, "you _are_ an Elf."

"And I have yet to meet an Elf that did not like a good forest," Treebeard nodded with a twinkle in his eye. "Which is, perhaps, why we Ents are so fond of them."

"That makes sense," Jack agreed, bobbing his head.

"But now we must part for a while," Treebeard said. There was a sigh that sounded like a wind blowing through the branches and trunk of an old tree, and all those who were not familiar with the Ents stared in awe as the melancholy sound blew past them. "Day is drawing to an end, yet Gandalf says you must go ere nightfall, and the Lord of the Mark is eager for his own house."

"Yes, we must go, and go now," Gandalf affirmed. "I fear that I must take your gatekeepers from you. But you will manage will enough without them."

"Maybe I shall," Treebeard said. "But I shall miss them. We have become friends in so short a while that I think I must be getting hasty- growing backwards towards youth, perhaps. I shall not forget them. I have put their names into the Long List. Ents will remember it. They shall remain friends as long as leaves are renewed. Fare you well! But if you hear news up in your pleasant little land, in the Shire, send me word! You know what I mean: word or sight of Entwives. Come yourselves if you can!"

"We will!" Merry and Pippin said in unison. There was a moment of silence between the wise, old Ent and the rowdy, young Hobbits, then Treebeard turned once again to Gandalf and concluded with him the business of Saruman. Treebeard swore that the Ents would faithfully guard Isengard and the wizard and friend therein 'til the fiend surrendered, and then, and it was time to leave him.

The Hobbits were swiftly relocated to seats behind Gandalf and Aragorn, with Merry riding behind the wizard, and Pippin behind the future king. Once this had been accomplished, with a bit of ado from the shortlings, they set out once again.

"It seems like we're always 'going,'" Jack mused as he rode in the midst of his friends. "We never seem to 'get' anywhere, but we're always 'going.'"

"Well," Boromir replied, "this isn't the end yet, is it? I do not know how tales are told in your land, but when the people finally do 'arrrive' somewhere, it is usually at the end of their journey, and we have much to do yet. Will we actually ever arrive somewhere, and stay there forever, before we die? Life is made of 'goings' on our part, the 'coming' is part of the ending."

A/N: I know, I know, I haven't solved the Faramir situation yet! Don't worry, I haven't forgotten or anything, I just wanted to mix things up a bit, and this is how the fic fell. Live with it, ha! Shippers? Happy? Unhappy? Angry? Say so in your REVIEW! hint.


	31. The Beans Spill

Disclaimer: Are you kidding? I look like I fell out of the story, not like I wrote it! Get a life, you blasted lawyers! I do not own the Lord of the Rings! Gah!

A/N: I am SO sorry this has taken so long! I have excellent reasons, though! I have a choir concert next week, so I shall be busy with that next week as well, my brother's graduation party is tommorrow and the whole family has to help with it, and this was my last week of real school. Next week I have to take the end of the year tests (gulp) but after that I will be DONE! YAY! Anyways, I have to update my other fic after this one, so hopefully you'll get another update by next weekend, but I can make no promises. I know you are all getting very tired of the Faramir issue, but it shall soon be resolved!

The Beans Spill

The pace was set as fast as the Hobbits could go, which was actually surprisingly fast. Gandalf had spoken truly, Hobbits really were amazing creatures. All you would ever think they could do on the average was dig around in their gardens, and yet, they possessed so many unique gifts, such as moving silently through the woods, or throwing rocks with devastating aim. Jaden suddenly wished she could've seen Merry and Pippin taking down the Orcs at Isengard from Treebeard's shoulders.

But she couldn't, she was leagues away and stuck in a world-class pickle.

Sam spied the added fear and anxiety on Jaden's face and leaned in closer to get in a few whispered words with her.

"What's wrong?" he whispered. Jaden cocked an eyebrow.

"We are the prisoners of the brother of the man that attacked Frodo for the Ring, and you're asking 'what's wrong?'" she asked incredulously.

"Not that," Sam waved his hand. "I mean... that's reason enough, I suppose, you're right, but you look... more worried, I guess, than Mister Frodo or myself."

"I'm a worrywart," she shrugged.

"Does it..." Sam worked his jaw, "does is have somethin' to do with _the future_? I thought this Faramir character seems alright..."

"Something is _wrong_," Jaden shook her head.

"Wrong?" Frodo whispered, joining in on the conversation as Faramir went ahead for a moment to confer with his men.

"Yeah," Jaden said. "Wrong, not right, messed-up, not in working order!"

"Can you be more specific?" Frodo asked, eyeing the men ahead.

"Let's just say something did NOT happen that was SUPPOSED to."

"Are you sure?" Sam gawked.

"Pretty much," Jaden frowned.

A dark silence descended on the three and for another moment they walked in silence.

"What do you think went wrong?" Frodo asked at a length.

"Either they're all dead, or Leigh did something very foolish," Jaden glowered, as if she could see her traitorous friend before her in the gloom.

The silence fell again as Faramir came back to them. At least it showed that he trusted them enough to not runaway when he had gone ahead like that. Jaden sighed. Maybe this was indeed the nice one. So far everyone else had been like they were in the books...

Frodo had already talked for some time with the Captain, and his trust in the Man grew with every passing word they spoke. He had greater control over his pride and temper than did Borormir, and his spirit was milder, and gentler. The Man now knew that they carried some great weapon of the Enemy, it was uncertain whether he guessed at just what that weapon might be, he knew that Gandalf had journeyed with them and fallen in Moria, and he had guessed closely to the great sin of Boromir, his brother. Still, Frodo did not trust him with the details of their journey. It was better to mistrust unjustly, than to speak rashly. Appearances could be deceiving, and this was not a thing that could be attempted a second time. He must be cautious, everything depended on _him_, on _his_ completion of the quest, if his and Jaden's fears proved correct, then he and the two with him were all that remained of the Thirteen Walkers. Frodo had nearly yielded to the desire to disclose to this man all of the details and dark secrets that shrouded their quest, but he had refrained upon thoughts of the possible demise of his other companions. If he failed, and they had indeed perished, then all their deaths would be in vain, and he could not bear for so many good souls to die meaningless deaths.

One issue had not yet been brought up in their walking conference, and that was what purpose Jaden served on their mission. The Captain could not truly be blamed for having doubts about something so strange as a woman, and barely that, going along on a mission of such great importance, or any mission that didn't involve caring for the children, the garden, the shop, or dinner. Jaden was unusual, yes, but then... female warriors had existed before the Four had tumbled into Middle-Earth, and things were quite different in the place where they had been raised, from what they had told Frodo and his kin. Still, Faramir was uncertain how to take Jaden's presence. It was clearly not a peaceful trip, and yet there was a woman, an armed woman who clearly intended on having to fight, tromping along through fen and forest. It was very odd, and it pricked his curiosity.

Jaden's secret could most _certainly_ not be told to his stranger. Even if he could pass up the temptation of so obviously an evil thing as the Ring, there was no telling if he would be able to deny the temptation of an obviously honest, even though strange, testimonies of a young woman who knew of the future. Even Gandalf had not asked the Four about the future, even though it surely must have weighed heavily on his shoulders as the leader of the Fellowship. He must have, at one time or another, desperately wanted to ask one of the youths a simple question about which road he should take, or what the Enemy was planning at that moment, and if they knew where His servants were lurking. Frodo himself had fought back the desire to ask such a question of Jaden on several occasions, but, for him, one look at her weary face had been all he'd needed to hold his tongue. But would that be enough for Faramir? He didn't even know the girl, would he be able to feel the compassion necessary to keep in the questions?

There was so much uncertainty, so much on the line. How could one so small make such a decision? Oh! How he wished Gandalf were there!

The Captain came back to him then and made to renew their conversation.

"Much have I asked you concerning yourself and your quest," Faramir said, "but, till now, I have asked naught of the Lady Jaden, as you call her. You must understand why I would see this as strange and worthy of investigation."

"I see why," Frodo said miserably, "but of her I can tell you even less than I could of myself and the quest that has brought me into your company."

"And why is that?" Faramir asked. "Surely she is merely another companion, of origins that I cannot guess, or race, on the quest, which is the all-important factor?"

"What you say of my journey is true," Frodo replied. "Jaden, however, carries a burden that is nearly equal to my own, and, while not evil, is hardly less perilous. I can tell you no more."

"She wears the face of one who endures great suffering," Faramir mused. "This must have to do with her 'burden.' Why does she not share it with others? I do not believe that it as physical a load as your own."

"She does share it with others," Frodo said. "But they are not here to share the load with her. They are either dead, or bearing similar burdens in other lands with the remainders of our companions."

"Then she fears, as you do, that her friends have perished," Faramir frowned. "That in itself is a weighty thing to log about. Yet, she was quiet from the first, as if afraid that something should fall from her tongue that would cause great evil to befall the whole of Middle-Earth."

'He does not know how closely he guesses,' Frodo thought.

"It is not merely her appearance that is strange," Faramir commented in an off-hand manner to the Hobbit walking beside him. "Her demeanor and movements are like none, man or woman, that I have ever laid eyes on, and I somehow doubt that it is the manner of the Elves. It is almost as if she has fallen from the sky." Frodo's hand twitched.

"I guess close to the mark, then, do I?" Faramir smiled.

"Great peril will be stirred if you continue this line of questioning, Captain Faramir," Frodo warned. "I would advise you to cease."

"I wish to learn all I can, Master Hobbit," Faramir said, "so that I might make the best decision for my people."

"The best decision for your people would be to let us go on our way unhindered," Frodo said flatly. "But you seem to have decided against this choice."

"That may yet be the choice I choose," Faramir answered. "The morning shall, I believe, bring with it the final decision as to your fate, at least as far as it concerns me."

Evergreens slipped past them as they went by like grey and green shadows in the evening. Pools of water became dark holes that might lead back to the world Jaden had been born in. The world grew darker, and with it, so did Jaden's thoughts and spirit.

She had been fighting back her loss of her friends and all assurances, as flimsy as they were, of safety. For all these days of walking, she had held her emotions in check, focusing on the need of surviving and little else. The bland wildernesses she had been through bleached out much imaginative thought. But now, due in part to the sudden life of Ithilien and part to the stress her current situation placed her in, all of the suppressed feelings flooded through their mental dams and rushed into her thoughts. Jaden missed her friends. She missed having others to talk to that she could tell everything to, shout out everything she knew if she felt the need to, and she missed having other people that completely understood her and her view of life. Frodo and Sam were great companions, but they were certainly not the slap-happy, dedicated young people that she had left behind. It drove her to the edge of madness to think that, at that moment, they could all be dead, or in pain. So much had already happened to them, yes, but the events of the first book were dwarfed by the sweeping battles and epic struggles of the second and third. Was Jack still safe in Lorien? Had they seen, or fought in, the Battle of Helm's Deep? Had they lived through it? For that matter, had they even lived past Amon Hen? So many questions were unanswered, and she came to realize that she did _not_ have all the answers. Things were happening that she had no knowledge of, and no control over. The greatest wear on her mind was, were her friends suffering because of her choice to join Frodo on his quest?

Around them, the trees began to thin out and the land beneath their feet fell at an ever steeper angle. In a few moments they were walking through a gorge formed by a stream that raced down to a deep pool. To the West, the Anduin could be seen, glinting in the distance.

"Here, alas! I must do you a discourtesy," Faramir apologized. "I hope you will pardon it to one who has so far made his orders give way to courtesy as not to slay you or to bind you. But it is a command that no stranger, not even one of Rohan that fights with us, shall see this path we now go with open eyes. I must blindfold you."

"As you will," Frodo replied. "Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien."

"It is no place so fair that I shall lead you to," Faramir smirked. "But I am glad that you will take this willingly and not by force."

He called softly and the Damrod and Mablung stepped out of the shades given by the trees. Faramir ordered his men simply to blindfold them tightly, but not in a way that would hurt them. For that, all three were very thankful.

The two guards bound the eyes of the three captives and pulled the hoods of their cloaks down almost to their mouths. Faramir took Frodo by the hand while Mablung and Damrod quickly took the hands of Jaden and Sam. All that they knew of their surroundings was what they guessed as they were led. The ground continued to head downwards and at times there was a rough, stone wall on either side. Several times, the Hobbits were lifted off their feet to cross over rougher places, but Jaden, being a woman, and being quite a bit larger than the little Halflings, had to fare as well as she could on foot. This was trickiest during the last stage of their little trip, where they descended down many, many, _many_ rough-hewn stairs. Finally, they reached their destination, at least, they assumed it was their destination. For a moment they stood there, listening to the roaring of nearby water and feeling the gentle spray mist their hands. Jaden desperately wished to tear off her blindfold now, for she had always dreamed of the beauty of the Window on the West, which she was quite sure was where they were standing. All of them were uneasy, though. Standing there with their blindfolds still tied, not knowing where they were, they began to fear when no one spoke.

"Let them see!" Faramir commanded from somewhere behind them. Jaden had never been so glad to hear his voice.

The blindfolds were pulled off and they gasped as they beheld their fabulous surroundings. Thoughts of how well this place could defend itself in case of the worst vanished from their minds, and they were spellbound by the sheer beauty of the cave in which they stood. The floor beneath their feet was polished with the moisture that had been caressing their hands. Behind them stood a rough stone gate of sorts, but none of them paid it any mind. All of their attention was caught up by the veil of water that hung before them, the tumbling stream of a waterfall. The sun's last, defiantly brilliant rays were shattered by the glistening beads of cascading water and bathed the cave beyond in a light like that cast by a prism, only with a red tint, courtesy of the sinking sun. Tiny pools on the floor, created, no doubt, by the ever present mist, glittered in the failing light and reflected perfectly the images of all that passed above them, like little mirrors.

"At least by good chance we came at the right hour to reward you for your patience," Faramir said with evident pride. "This is the Window of the Sunset, Henneth Annun, fairest of all the falls in Ithilien. Few strangers have ever seen it. But there is no kingly hall behind to match it. Enter now and see!"

They turned and passed through the arch and came to a room, or cave, rather, with a slanting, rough roof, many men, and a great store of everything a Ranger would need during his time in the wilderness. More men came in by twos and threes through a door to the side, and joined their companions who had arrived before them.

"Well, here is our refuge," Faramir said. "Not a place of great ease, but here you may pass the night in peace. It is dry at least, and there is food, though no fire. Now rest a while, until the evening meal is set."

They were led to a corner and offered a low bed to rest on, should they wish it, and then were left alone as the men went about the business of their everyday lives. Faramir walked amongst his men and questioned in a quiet voice each of those that came in from abroad. Meanwhile, many of the others laid out rough dishes of wood or brown pottery along with cups and basins of polished bronze and one plain silver cup in the center of the middle table for Captain Faramir. Jaden smirked at that. Even if his father was determined to show as little respect as possible for his son, the Rangers, who served under Faramir, loved their Captain, and honored him in every little thing they could manage it seemed. At least all in Gondor weren't as bad as Denethor. Jaden gave herself a mental slap. Shame on her! There were many excellent men in Gondor! Leigh would most likely smack her upside the head for even thinking that.

Frodo had curled up on the bed and gone to sleep, but Sam sat there stubbornly in front of Jaden, who had her back against the wall, determined to not sleep and leave his master vulnerable to attack. For Jaden, sleep was not more than a passing thought. Other things swirled through her head and drove off all need or desire to rest.

Suddenly Jaden's fingers ached for her journal. Thus far in any time of trouble, she had always had her trusty, leather-bound friend to share her thoughts with. It would be most unwise to write in it here, in front of all these men, though. Her fingers flexed and she sighed as she looked down at them. Even her fingers missed the feel of the pen. Her friends would never let her live down the fact that she had been converted into an author of sorts... if she lived at all.

Torches were being lit all about the room, and casks of wine were being opened while other men ran to the falls and fetched water. Faramir directed his men to wake their guests and take them water.

Frodo sat up and yawned mightily and stretched, shaking off the foggy webs of sleep, but poor Sam was rather surprised by the tall man bent down before him with a basin of water.

"Put it on the ground, master, if you please!" Sam urged. "Easier for me and you." To the astonishment and amusement of all, especially the Men, Sam then proceeded to plunge his head into the cool water and splash all of it that wouldn't fit in the bowl.

"Is it the custom of your land to wash the head before supper?" the Man waiting on them asked.

"No, before breakfast," Sam replied. "But if you're short of sleep, cold water on the neck's like rain on a wilted lettuce. There! Now I can keep awake long enough to eat a bit."

They were given seats on either side of Faramir, with Jaden sitting beside Frodo. Jaden couldn't help but get a kick out of the seats that had been rigged for the smaller guests. Two barrels had been rolled up and pelts had been stacked upon them to raise the Hobbits to the roughly the same level as the Men. She was very thankful that she didn't have to clamber up onto one of those contraptions, and for a moment she was even worried about the safety of the Hobbits.

Then the Men paused before their seats, and as one turned and looked out to the West. Silence, except for the ever present noise of the falls, came over the scene. Not one of the Men stirred for moment, and it was almost as if they saw something beyond the realm of sight that held their awe by its beauty or majesty. Faramir indicated to the guests that they should do likewise.

"So we always do," Faramir said as he sat, "we look towards Numenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be. Have you no such custom at meat?"

"No," Frodo replied, feeling for all the world like a country-bumpkin. "But if we are guests, we bow to our host, and after we have eaten we rise and thank him."

"That we do also," Faramir said.

Jaden had just made a new discovery. The longer you go without decent food, and have it in decent supply, the better it tastes when you get back to eating 'normal' food. While she still desperately wished for a nice, large, meatlovers pizza, Jaden found herself quite happy with the bread (with BUTTER!), salted meats, dried fruits, and good red cheese. Never in her wildest dreams had she even thought about how wonderful it would be to be able to eat with clean hands again. And yet, this was as welcome a change as the food itself. The wine was a slight issue though. While the Hobbits drank with pleasure, she cringed at the ever present thought 'You're underage! Drink and be PROSECUTED!'.

Sam and Frodo both noticed her dilemma, and Frodo, being the only one who could speak to her without shouting over Faramir, took the opportunity to whisper some advice to her.

"I know you have laws in your land concerning drinking," he smirked, clearly enjoying this, "but, you have to understand that there are no such laws here, and you are _allowed_ to drink things other than water and milk."

"I was allowed to drink more than that back home," Jaden hissed back. "We had other things that haven't been made here, but... oh, man, I am in so much trouble."

"Just relax, Jay," the Hobbit giggled. "Don't you think your friends might be drinking the same sort of thing now?"

"Zip it," Jaden glowered. "You're not being nice."

"Well," Frodo shrugged, "there isn't anything else to drink, so your choices are to drink the wine or go thirsty and possibly offend our hosts."

"Whatever," Jaden snorted, her old speaking habits returning under stress, "you and Sam are drinking more than enough for all three."

Frodo chuckled but made no more comment.

Staring at her plate, Jaden's thoughts went back again to her friends. They would be in stitches after witnessing the conversation she had just had. Doubtless, Frodo was right, and they were having problems similar to her own, that was, if they were still alive.

'Stop being so morbid!' she scolded herself. 'What would Maylin do if she heard you thinking like that? She'd whoop you with that bow of hers, that's what she'd do. You're not doing anyone any favors by thinking about the worst case scenario.'

After the Hobbits had enjoyed a third helping of everything, Faramir led his guests off into a recess at the back of the cave that was at least partially screened by curtains. A little lamp was burning merrily away in a niche, and two stools and a chair were brought in.

"You may soon desire to sleep," Faramir said. "But it is not good to sleep too soon after meat, and that following a fast. Let us talk a while. On your journey from Rivendell there must have been many things to tell. And you, too, would perhaps wish to learn something of us and the lands where you now are. Tell me of Boromir, my brother, and of old Mithrandir, and the fair people of Lothlorien."

They talked for many hours, Faramir listening intently, like a five-year-old at story time. Frodo had not lost all his caution with the wine, and he was careful to steer clear of bringing up the purpose of the Company or the Ring. At every opportunity, he focused on the valiant role Boromir had played at each stage of their journey.

Beside him, Sam had to bite his tongue not to hint and tease about Boromir's attention paid to Leigh, Jaden's friend and his, but he managed to stop himself each time.

At length, Faramir took his turn to speak, and told and debated much about his city and the country around it.

And then it happened, they started talking about the Elves of Lorien, or rather Sam began telling about them.

"The Lady of Lorien! Galadriel!" Sam cried happily during the conversation. "You should see her, indeed you should, sir. I wish I could make a song for her. Beautiful she is, sir! Lovely! Sometimes like a great tree in flower, sometimes like a white daffadowndilly, small and slender like. Hard as di'monds, soft as moonlight. Proud and far-off as a snow-mountain, and as merry as any lass I ever saw with daisies in her hair in springtime. But that's a lot o'nonsense, and all wide of my mark."

"Then she must be lovely indeed," Faramir said. "Perilously fair."

"I don't know about _perilous_," Sam replied. "It strikes me that folk takes their peril with them into Lorien, and finds it there because they've brought it. But perhaps you could call her perilous, because she's so strong in herself. Now Boro----," he stopped and went red in the face.

"Yes, _Now Boromir_ you say?" Faramir asked. "What would you say? He took his peril with him?"

"Yes sir, begging your pardon, sir," Sam stuttered, "and a fine man as your brother was, if I may say so. But you've been warm on the scent all along. Now I watched Boromir and listened to him, from Rivendell all down the road- looking after my master, as you'll understand, and not meaning any harm to Boromir- and it's my opinion that in Lorien he first saw clearly what I guessed sooner: what he wanted. From the moment he first saw it he wanted the Enemy's Ring!"

"Sam!" Frodo cried.

A/N: I am, once again, sorry that Faramir hasn't been solved yet, but it should be taken care of in the next chapter, you know what I mean. As always, REVIEW! PLEASE! Ouch, I have a BAD headache... review... please. Say 'marshwiggles' in your review if you have read my author's notes! Kudos if you know what a marshwiggle is!


	32. Point of No Return

Disclaimer: I'm tired, and if you really think I own the Lord of the Rings, you're on something. I do NOT own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: I am very proud of myself. I finished this chapter despite the rigors of choir. Faints I hope you are happy, and I expect a LOT of reviews! Ha! This is a longer chapter, so I am glad... yeah, that's all I have to say for tonight. Enjoy!

Point of No Return

Poor Frodo had been deeply consumed in his own thoughts so as not to see the direction in which things were moving. When he finally reacted, it was too late.

Jaden stayed silent, it had been difficult for her to watch these proceedings and not say a word to help or stop the little Hobbit. Now the fate of the quest lied in Faramir's hands.

A thought nagged at the back of her mind. Had her purpose been to stop Sam from saying that dreadful phrase? Was she supposed to have protected them all from the 'dark side' Faramir? Only time would tell.

"Save me!" Sam gasped. His face drained of color and then his veins seemed to reverse their flow and he turned bright scarlet. "There I go again! _When ever you open your big mouth you put your foot in it_ the Gaffer used to say to me, and right enough he was! O dear, O dear!" Then he turned suddenly to face Faramir and mustered all the determination his little frame possessed.

"Now look here, sir!" he said. "Don't you go taking advantage of my master because his servant's no better than a fool. You've spoken very handsome all along, but _handsome is as handsome does_ we say. Now's a chance to show your quality."

"So it seems," Faramir said very slowly and softly, and with a strange smile. "So that is the answer to all the riddles! (Besides one) The One Ring that was thought to have perished from the world. And Boromir tried to take it by force? And you escaped? And ran all the way- to me! And here in the wild I have you: two halflings and a girl, and a host of men at my call, and the Ring of Rings. A pretty stroke of fortune! A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality! Ha!" The tall man stood up, his grey eyes glinting from a light that came not from the lamp.

Frodo, Sam, and Jaden sprang up and backed up against the far wall, side by side by side. They each grabbed for their sword hilts and there was a silence in the entire cave as the other men ceased whatever they were doing and looked towards the alcove in curiosity at what was going on. Faramir sat down once again in his chair and began to laugh, then suddenly became grave again.

"Alas for Boromir! It was too sore a trial!" he sighed. "How you have increased my sorrow, you three strange wanderers from far countries, bearing the peril of Men! But you are less judges of Men than I of Halflings. We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt. _Not if I found it on the highway would I take it_ I said. Even if I were such a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those words as a vow, and be held by them.

"But I am not such a man. Or I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee. Sit at peace! And be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so." An inner part of Jaden smiled at this. "Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes. For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this to me. It may even help the master that you love. It shall turn to his good, it is in my power. So be comforted. But do not even name this thing again aloud. Once is enough."

The three returned to their stools and sat quietly, much quieter than before, and the men beyond the curtain returned to their drinks, thinking that their captain had had some jest at the guests' expense, and it was over.

"Well, Frodo," Faramir said, "now at least_ we_ understand one another. If you took this thing on yourself, unwilling, at others' asking, then you have pity and honor from me. And I marvel at you: to keep it hid and not to use it. Are all of your kin of like sort? Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there must gardeners be held in high honor.

"But no more tonight. Sleep, all of you- in peace if you can. Fear not! I do not wish to see it, or touch it, or know more of it than I know, lest peril perchance waylay me and I fall lower in the test than Frodo son of Drogo. Go now to rest- but first tell me only, if you will, whither you wish to go, and what to do. For I must watch, and wait, and think. Time passes. In the morning we must each go swiftly on the ways appointed to us."

The shock and terror that had struck the Hobbit Frodo and caused his mind to leap with dread had now abandoned him, and it felt to him as if he was thinking through a cloud. Now, he could resist no longer.

"I was going to find a way to Mordor," he said faintly. "I was going to Gorogoroth. I must find the Mountain of Fire and cast the thing into the gulf of Doom. Gandalf said so. I do not think I shall ever get there."

There was a moment while Faramir stared at the little creature before him in utter astonishment. He may have suspected many possible routes that the Hobbits and their friend might have intended to take, but this he had not guessed, for it was a thing beyond the words of courage and honor. Frodo suddenly swayed and both Faramir and Jaden leapt forward to catch him before he hit the ground. Their eyes met for a moment and Jaden quickly looked elsewhere and rose, letting the Gondorian lift up the exhausted Frodo. He may have proven himself trustworthy with the Ring, but could he be trusted with her own secret? Faramir carried the Hobbit to the bed that had been made up earlier for the three to rest on, laid him there, and covered him warmly. In about two seconds, Frodo was asleep.

Two other beds were set out for Samwise and Jaden. Jaden sat on the edge of her bed and watched the proceedings as a distant spectator would. Sam hesitated and then bowed low before the Captain.

"Good night, Captain, my lord," he said. "You took the chance, sir."

"Did I so?" Faramir asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very highest."

Faramir smiled at the little man. "A pert servant, Master Samwise. But nay: the praise of the praisworthy is above all rewards. Yet there was naught in this to praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done."

"Ah well, sir," Sam said, "you said my master had an Elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of- well, Gandalf, of wizards."

"Maybe," Faramir mused. "Maybe you discern from far away the air of Numenor. Good night!" Then he turned and went to attend to the business of his post.

Jaden smirked as Sam dragged the covers back laboriously and flopped in. He caught her watching and muttered under his breath.

"Some things never change 'eh?" he grumbled. "We walk for ages and eons, are scared to within an inch of our lives, taken captive by the very race that Boromir came from, and the girl gets a laugh from my weariness. Hope I please you, ma'am, for my next performance, I shall saw logs."

"Good night, Sam," Jaden laughed. "I'm very glad that the events of the past day haven't worn on you too much."

The gardener muttered furiously and jerked onto his side, facing towards his master and away from the obnoxious teenager.

"Sweet dreams," she said perkily. A retort that was definitely not 'sweet dreams' or 'sleep tight' was grumbled from the lump of covers on the bed next to her. With final giggle, she left Sam alone and turned her attention to more interesting things, namely, her journal.

Ever since Faramir had revealed which side he stood on, Jaden had been toying with the delicious idea of pulling out her journal and entering a bit, no matter how brief, on her adventures of the day. The white pages were barren and lacking all information of the traumas Sam attested to. Biblo had given her the thing to _write in_, right? So what good was it doing just sitting like a lump of clay in her pack? This was one of the major events in Frodo's journey, and goodness knew that Frodo had been neglecting his own poor journal. Of course, he would (hopefully) have enough time to write his memoirs after the fact, but Jaden didn't know how much longer she had to roam across the glades, fields and rocks of Middle-Earth, and she wanted her thoughts and experiences to be recorded for others, especially her close friends, to read.

Jaden glanced around herself cautiously. Besides the few men who were going over weapons and tack, the others were all sleeping soundly or out on watch somewhere. Roughly translated: no one was going to see anything if she scrawled down a few lines. With the grace and ease of someone who has often repeated a certain task, the girl fetched out her journal and writing materials, laid them out on her lap, and poised her quill over the first blank area of paper she came to.

_It's me again. Well, that's an obvious thing to say, who else would be writing in my journal? I think it's safe to say that I'm addicted now, to writing in here I mean. At present, I am surrounded by armed Men who do not know who I am or what I know, and I am taking the risk to blab to my one truly silent companion. Frodo would have my hide, or Gandalf might, if I ever see him again... actually, there are a lot of people that wouldn't be too thrilled about this. Oh well, since when have I done exactly as I'm supposed to? _

_I promised myself I would make this short, and we can all see how THAT'S turning out. Here I go, prepare for 'my day in a nutshell.' Faramir and company found us, duh. I knew it was going to happen, I just didn't know when. Guess I know that now, too, don't I? I really need to learn how to shut-up. Anyway, so, yes, Faramir came. There was a big battle and we came way too close to becoming stamps on the grass of Ithilien courtesy of one big, ticked-off Mumak. Yes, I have now seen an elephant on steroids, and I hope I never do again. Jack'll be jealous. Haha. Back on topic. The Gondorian Captain still doesn't know about me, and he is MORE than curious. He knows about the Ring now, though, and he's going to let at least Frodo and Sam go, but I am still worried about what will happen if he finds out how much I know. And that, is my day in a nutshell._

_Something has finally dawned on me. I don't know everything. Stop laughing, right now, just stop. I guess I didn't realize that not knowing the fates of my friends would drive me crazy like this. How can these Gondorians just keep going through their lives with so much evil so close? All of the four of us (Maylin, Leigh, Jack and myself) have always had at least a vague idea about what's going on with the others, and I can tell you, fighting for your life was never one of those things. Fencing doesn't count. This is serious, though. Oh man, I'm tearing up right now. Leigh's always been... headstrong, I guess you could say, so I wouldn't put it past her to go messing with the time-line and_ _saving Boromir. But then, they might all be dead. It is less likely, their numbers are greater than they were in the story, and they survived it then, so... all I can do is hope. The visions in Galadriel's Mirror are haunting me now, and I'm beginning to wish I hadn't looked, but then, I wouldn't be here in the first place, would I? _

_Ah, crud. I'm crying now. Blast. I need to stop now, before I draw any attention to myself. I need the sleep anyways._

Faramir stepped back into the cave to see his three guests sound asleep. It seemed that Frodo hadn't so much as twitched since he was first set on the bed, and Sam looked like nothing besides the ending of the world would rouse him. The girl, on the other hand, Jaden, looked like she had more recently dropped off, and her bag was left open and several items had been tossed rather carelessly on top of it. As he stepped closer, Faramir saw that tears trails were running down her face, freshly cut through the thin film of dust that was the result of long travels and wouldn't leave without the effort of hard scrubbing. The bottom rim of her sealed eyelid was red and the entire area around her eyes was swollen from crying. The captain straightened and glanced around the room, but none of his men seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, and a crying woman was certainly an unusual sight in Henneth Annun.

Then he turned to the things left out on top of the pack. They seemed to have been thrown there in tiredness and despair, otherwise it would have undoubtedly remained hidden. A finely-tooled script flowed over the cover of the book, the main item, and declared 'Journal' in Elvish.

For a few moments Faramir hesitated. Privacy was not something to invade lightly, and yet the weight of the defense of Gondor, and quite likely all of Middle-Earth was resting on his shoulders. True, he did not desire to know more of the burden Frodo bore, but he felt he needed to know about this strange young woman. Questions tumbled around about her, and Faramir actually feared for the safety of Frodo's quest. Even though he did trust the Hobbit's senses, the girl seemed a great risk, a strange risk, and something in him demanded that he know what made her own secret so perilous, and why her eyes testified of sorrows and fears born beyond what was asked. The book before him, he was quite sure, would answer his questions.

With a deep breath, Faramir scooped up the leather tome and strode over to the recess he had spoken with the little band in only a few hours earlier that evening. The book rested solidly in his hand, and the Gondorian's conscience performed a merry jig with blades as he reverently opened to the first page.

_After only such a short amount of time, we have come through so much together that I feel unbelievable close to my three friends who were kidnaped with me. So far, we have hidden from monstrous crows that were sent as spies to seek us out, battled the harsh winds and snow of the Misty Mountains, nearly frozen to death, and now wait with sweaty palms for the attack of a pack of wolves that I think are actually werewolves, if I remember correctly. _

_I believe that there are at least two relationships that involve my friends that may just become more than friendship, one of them is well on its way. Boromir saved Leigh from freezing to death on the mountain and shared his cloak with her even after a fire had been lit (finally). Hopefully, I will be able to write more about this budding romance as it grows. My greatest fear is for what it might mean in the future. I know what Boromir is going to do, and I'm concerned about what Leigh's going to do. She's very stubborn but I don't think she'd go as far as to alter the story so severely. Something like that could change everything. Then again, they say that love changes everything, so I honestly don't know. There seems to be a lovely little bit of friendliness between Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood, and our own dear Maylin. Now THAT would be interesting._

_I'm enjoying this, it's fun writing about little things I see around me. But right now, I had better get some sleep. The wolves will be here soon._

A slight smirking gasp whispered through Faramir's lips as he read the first journal entry. The journal was written in Elvish, but the words were arranged strangely, as if the girl, Jaden, spoke another language, or form of language. Frodo had said that she was from a distant land, so that might explain some things, and yet, he had never seen anything like this. Apparently, these other two girls Jaden mentioned were the same that the Hobbit had said traveled with them from Rivendell. Had his brother really become romantically interested in this Leigh? Was he still alive, then?

The most important fact this entry had revealed: Jaden at least knew the future of at least his brother, and if her other three 'friends' had been 'kidnaped' with her, then it stood to reason that they also knew of what was to come.

Fascinated and enthralled, Faramir plunged on, flipping ahead a short ways to another selection.

_Just so you know, I'm writing this at an unearthly hour of night, but don't feel flattered, it isn't because I was that desperate to write, ok? A nightmare kept me from sleeping well tonight, a nightmare about the day we were taken._

_Everything looked just the same as it did that day, all of the details were right, even our costumes were accurate. Sean was there, I really wish he wasn't, both in the dream and reality. I didn't even get to see the fun we had before we took that short-cut. The dream started right as we turned into that little alley and realized that something was wrong. We were all panicking, Maylin gasped 'Nazgul', and Leigh tried to get to her knife. _

_And then came that blackness, just like it was when we were transported by the Ringwraith. I don't want to describe that, it's something better left unrecorded. _

_The next scene that popped into my head was what happened right after we woke up. Just as things happened at the actual event, the Orcs started arguing, then they ran Sean through._

_It kept repeating and repeating until I finally woke up. I guess it's a good thing I didn't wake up anyone else. Aragorn might be awake, or Legolas, but I'm not sure. Why would a thing like that get into my head in Lothlorien? I've seen enough death, enough suffering, I think it's time I figured out how to let go._

_Many good things have happened since we came here, but I wish that Sean had lived. It was such a waste, for him to die like that. My first real memory of this world is watching another person like myself be slaughtered mercilessly._

_If Jack hadn't pulled through, I don't know what I would have done. We should have been the Five, but now we are the Four, and if we became the Three, I don't think I could survive the loss of another friend, especially one that I had known for so long. _

_I want to make Sauron pay for what he has done, and I want all that is beautiful that is left in this land to endure forever, but I don't know what I can possibly do to help. Maybe one day Bilbo will write this all down in a poem and make it all dramatic, but all I can say, in my own clumsy words, is my own feelings. Leigh fights like a madwoman, Maylin shoots arrows off faster than I can blink, and even Jack could be pretty gutsy with a sword, well obviously, he nearly got himself run-through._

_Gimli's calling, guess he and Legolas are back for awhile. I should go, bye._

The curious side of Faramir begged that he go on, but the stronger, more sensible and knowledgeable side ordered him to close the book, and he complied willingly. As the dry paper brushed against his fingers, Faramir reflected carefully on what he had learned, with something like shock.

Jaden and her friends were from another world. They had been kidnaped by a Nazgul, and a friend of theirs had died right in front of them shortly after their arrival. How these people knew about the future, he did not know, but it did not matter. They did. The thoughts he had read were one of a young woman, still sorting out the issues all young people face, but with these she was also carrying a weighty load: she knew the future, and one wrong move could destroy a world. Frodo had been right, this burden was just as perilous and weighty as the Ring around his neck.

And now the girl didn't even know what had become of her friends, her last ties to the world she was born in and last thread of stability.

Yet, a new hope had dawned for Faramir. Might Boromir still live? Could this Leigh have stopped the events that caused his death? He could only hope.

Faramir let his head fall back against the rough rock of the cave wall behind him and closed his eyes.

He was a Captain of Gondor. It was his duty to protect his people, and both of the great powers presented to him this night might be viewed as valuable assets in the war that was trickling over the borders and into the heart of the land he loved so dearly. It was not his place to halt what the Wise had deemed as necessary, and that included Jaden's going with Frodo as far as she could or willed. He wouldn't stop one who had already endured so much from acting out the role fate had allotted her.

Groaning, Faramir pulled his head back up and gazed at the far wall. His father would kill him if he ever found out, which he would the moment Faramir returned, and by his own mouth what was more.

The thin curtain was easily brushed aside as Faramir passed out of the side room. There was something he needed to do. He needed to talk to Jaden, tell her what he knew, and offer her his aid as he had offered it to Frodo. The two had the same goal, but carried separate burdens, and thus were both deserving of individual aid on his part. It was his honor to help these valiant people in anyway he could.

Jaden was fast asleep when he reached her and set the journal back on top of her pack in the same place he had found it. Then the great captain crouched down silently besides the sleeping girl and gently shook her awake.

For a moment, Faramir had a brief glimpse of the true Jaden, how she had been before the worries and cares of her new life had pressed her soul into the dirt. Her eyes were gentle but held a definite sparkle that spoke of a merry young woman, who loved to laugh and listen. True, they were still groggy, but it seemed like this was also a common thing that those innocent eyes were used to. Then the moment passed, and Jaden's mind caught up to what was happening, and all the old weariness and fear that had haunted her visage came back in a snap. Along with these was the fear of just why this Captain of Gondor was rousing her in the middle of the night. She knew of only two possibilities a) he had discovered her secret and wanted to know things or b) he didn't know, but was set on finding out, at any cost.

"Be at peace," Faramir shushed. "I have not come to attain answers from you." Jaden still looked extremely distrustful but nodded silently. "Would you please come and walk with me?" Once again, Jaden nodded.

Silently, so as not to wake her companions, Jaden slid off the rough but warm covers that felt like silk to her worn skin and padded along after Faramir.

He did not lead her to the pool, as she had been somewhat afraid he would. If she had been forced to replace Frodo and Sam in that crucial scene, things could go very, very badly. With Faramir leading and Jaden tagging a step behind, they went only as far as the cavern behind the fall where Jaden, Frodo and Sam had first seen the interior of the network of caves that sheltered the Gondorian Rangers of Ithilien. The full moon had turned the fiery gushing of the water to an intricate and ever moving pattern of silver and pearl that glistened with tiny diamonds in the white light. Jaden was sorely tempted to just stand there and stare at it with her mouth hanging open, but the thoughts of other, more pressing, matters soon dominated. She turned to see Faramir watching her intently.

"What?" she asked, not exactly thrilled at being awakened at such a time.

"It just seems strange to me that one from another world could be so similar to the people in my own land," he replied passively. Jaden blanched and backed up as fast as her feet would carry her while making sure to keep the waterfall in close proximity. It would be far better to plunge down in the water and die a terrible death upon the rocks than to do something that could seal the fate of Middle-Earth.

Faramir swung his hands out, away from himself in a gesture of peace. "I will not hurt you," he repeated. "Nor will I ask of things that it is not my place to know."

"If that's the case, why did you wake me up, and bring me here alone?" Jaden asked.

"I thought I should let you know that I possess knowledge of your trials," Faramir sighed. "I have done something which is not befitting of a son of the Steward, or any other Man of Gondor..."

"You read my journal," Jaden glared, "didn't you?"

"I'm afraid so," the man sighed. "But fear not, I read as little as I could to gain the knowledge I sought of you. Only two passages, chosen at random did I read."

"Ok," Jaden squirmed. "So what now?"

"In the morning," Faramir straightened, "you will leave with your companions, and continue on the quest you have undertaken."

"Thank you," Jaden bowed her head. "There are few who could resist such knowledge." Faramir returned her tribute and watched silently as she turned and headed back towards her bed, which might still even be warm. Then she paused suddenly and half-turned her head toward him, more like a twitch.

"Thank you," she said again. "Really, thank you. I have been worrying over what would happen if something like this happened and... just thank you." Faramir simply nodded in reply.

"One thing that I must thank_ you_ for..." he paused as if unsure how best to continue. "I now once again hold hope for my brother and my people."

"It really wasn't supposed to be that way," Jaden sighed. She turned quickly and looked the man straight in the eye. "But you know what? I don't really care. Maybe it was supposed to be this way." After that she turned back toward the other cave and called back over her shoulder, "Goodnight, Captain Faramir."

"Good night," Faramir smiled. It seemed, that Frodo had indeed made a wise decision by letting the girl come with him... and apparantly, so had a young Captain.

A/N: Well? Cheesy? Good? What? I am VERY glad that the whole Faramir mess has finally been cleaned up, that makes me very happy. PLEASE review. I am seriously busy this week, no joke, so if there aren't a lot of reviews, I will most likely crawl in a hole, talk to my friends and sleep instead of working on this fic. There you have it: REVIEW! I plead!


	33. Bright Omen

Disclaimer: I can do many things, I have seen many things, I own many things, but I do not own The Lord of the Rings. So there, haha. I do own the Four, however. Kidnaping them shall have consequences! Not that anyone would...

A/N: I know, I know. It has taken me an insanely long time to get this updated! The good news is, testing is done, choir is nearly over, and I saw X3. The bad news: X3 stunk in my personal opinion. I won't go there. Doesn't go there It is very hot, and I do believe that the heat is effecting my brain. Sorry, no more rambling. The next chapter should have both the main groupie and Jaden, so everyone'll be happy... muse permitting. Ahem, right, one with the fic!

Bright Omen

It was with lightened spirits that the King's Company, Gandalf, and those that rode with him left the shattered ruins of Isengard. The Ents stood in a grave file, an honor guard of sorts, along the road away from the black obelisk and the remains of its surroundings. Everything about the atmosphere seemed solemn, especially to the two Hobbits and three youths, who were all still used to cracking jokes and speaking easily. Nonetheless, it was fitting, really. The Ents had conquered Isengard, it now lay under their jurisdiction, and the arrival of the King of Rohan and Gandalf the White was similar to that of foreign dignitaries visiting an allied nation.

The Hobbits would not be silent. It seemed that their quirky little minds were never lacking a ready question, especially a question that they had already asked... many times. All of those riding towards the rear were deeply grateful that they only had one of the little Shirelings on their hands. Barely a minute could go by without Pippin chirping in with a "When are we stopping?" or a "I'm hungry, got something to eat in all those bags?". To make matters worse, Jack made the grave mistake of telling the young Hobbit about the tradition of asking "Are we there yet?" to try and distract him from his barrage of repeated questions. Now Pippin _really_ kept the questions rolling.

"Are we there yet?" Pippin asked happily.

"No," Maylin moaned.

"Are you hungry? I'm hungry. What are we going to eat when we stop?"

"No, and I have no idea," Jack replied with a heavy sigh.

"Are we there yet?" came the all-too familiar question.

"Pippin, dear," Leigh growled, "I love you, I really do. You've got be the cutest Hobbit I've ever met, but if you ask that question _one more time_ I'm going to pop you one so hard you won't see straight or ask anymore thrice-blasted questions for a week."

"Jack," Maylin glared, "this is entirely your fault."

"Believe me," the boy moaned, "I know."

"It shall never fail to amuse me how many queer games you possess in the land you came from," Boromir laughed heartily, finding it all very funny now that Pippin had 'shut his trap' as Jack put it.

"When are we going to stop?" Pippin asked, figuring that Leigh hadn't said he couldn't ask any other questions.

"When Gandalf decides to call a halt," Aragorn replied.

"Oh," Pippin looked thoughtful. "And when will that be?"

"Pippin," Maylin smiled, "shut-up."

"What does that mean?" the Hobbit queried.

"It means you shut your mouth and no sounds come out," Leigh helped.

Aragorn gave a slight smirk at the two girls' bluntness. If they all lived through this war, he would either have to give them lessons on subtly or take lessons from them on directness.

Soon, Jack found that he could discern little difference from the creaking of the leather saddles and the squeak of Pippin's voice. He rocked back and forth in his saddle, letting his horse do all the work and just letting his senses roam over the passing landscape. There weren't many trees now, mostly shrubby plants made up the assortment of vegetation.

"What do you think of the change of scenery?" Jack asked.

"Rock, rock... another rock," Leigh drawled.

"Oh and the grass, don't forget the grass," Maylin pointed out.

Jack grinned. They weren't too far off, actually. The only thing they hadn't mentioned was the mass amounts of heather crawling across the hillside.

The word finally trickled back that they would be stopping for the night soon and sighs and moans of relief were heard from at least four members of the Fellowship.

In Leigh's opinion, the site Gandalf had picked for camp was, quite possibly, the worst place on the entire mini-mountain that he could have chosen. There were plenty of reasons why they should have stopped somewhere else, and they were all sharp and pointy. Thorn bushes grasped up through the shallow soil and clawed anyone careless or unlucky enough to pass within a foot of them. Now, if you have ever weeded around a thorn bush, you know that your peril lies not only in the barbed branches that are still attached to the growing bush. The little bits and pieces of dead, thorny branches are just, or more, painful and dangerous than the bush itself. Gloves offer little protection when you accidentally grab or even touch one of the nasty little hooks. It's almost like they're alive and _looking_ for your hand. With this in mind, think about sleeping in an area covered with said bushes. It was quite possibly the worst thing that could be at a camp-site, and all three of the younger traveling companions were irrate that someone as wise and powerful as Gandalf would chose such an awful place to sleep on the _ground_.

According to the mathematics of chance, the more of something there is, the more opportunities there are. While this might be a good thing in many other cases, this was a _terrible_ thing under the current conditions. If weeding in gloved hands was painful, sleeping with your entire body laid out fully on the ground with your full weight pressing down was torture.

Deep down, though, all of the worriers knew very well that there was no point in bringing this up with the old wizard unless they were aiming at giving him something to laugh about later that evening. Since none of them were in the mood to give Gandalf _anything_, they resolved to say nothing to the jerk and just gripe amongst themselves and search for some means of distraction.

The only real growing thing, besides grass, that lived around their camp was a great hawthorn and the little ferns that were just popping up around it. Any curiosity any of the three might have had concerning the great hawthorn was shadowed by the ever present threat of the 'stickers' from the thorn bushes. Pippin, being the little darling that he was, decided to try to climb the said hawthorn. True to character, he slipped about half way up and might very well have broken his neck if an opportune thorn bush hadn't broken his fall... and his skin. For the next fifteen minutes, Aragorn, Maylin and Leigh had their hands full keeping the squirming Pippin still long enough to get out all the little thorns that had punctured the skin.

"How on earth do you manage it, Pip?" Leigh asked.

"Manage what?" Pippin replied.

"You seem to have a gift for getting yourself into trouble, no matter where we are or what we're doing," Maylin sighed as she gingerly extracted yet another sharp bit of vegetation.

"That's what Merry tells me," Pippin bobbed his head. "Except, he gets into a lot of trouble too."

"That, I can believe," Aragorn chuckled.

"Youch! Do be careful! I've got only one skin, and I like it very much, thank you kindly!" Pippin squealed with the removal of particularly deep thorn.

"You look like a porcupine with his quills poking the wrong way," Maylin giggled.

"He does, doesn't he?" Leigh grinned.

"I think we've done as much as we can with him," Aragorn sighed as he leaned back on his heels.

"Good, suppertime," Leigh said.

"Supper?" Pippin asked, his attention captured.

The healer, his two assistants and his patient all moved back toward the merry fire that had been lit in the hollow, and where the food was just being dished out.

That night's fare was typical of travel-food, the one great exception was that it was warm instead of cold and hard from the packs. Flat cakes, who's contents could only be guessed at, dried meat and warmed ale had been prepared by some of the Rohirrim soldiers. While the three were more than glad to see the cakes and meat, they soon found themselves in a position similar to that of Jaden when it came to the ale. However, their predicament was made all the more dangerous with the addition of an Elf, a Dwarf, two Men and a Wizard who understood their plight, besides the two Hobbits, which Jaden also suffered from.

Soon, it was discovered that it was probably unwise to drink the water from the nearby stream, due to its close proximity to Isengard, and the filth that had and was still flowing out of its broken gates. This left Maylin, Leigh and Jack two choices: try to drink the ale, or most likely pass out from dehydration the next day and suffer all night long. In the end, the first choice won out.

Maylin was the first to try to brew, Legolas assuring her that it would take a great deal of ale to get an Elf drunk. With these reassurances, she carefully sipped from her mug, only taking a swig when absolutely necessary.

Unfortunately, Jack and Leigh did not meet with such success.

"It doesn't really bother me," Maylin coaxed her friends.

"Yeah," Leigh said, staring into her drink, "but you're an Elf." Jack nodded vigorously in agreement.

"What could possibly go wrong?" Maylin asked innocently.

"A lot," Leigh snorted.

"Come on, lad," Gimli elbowed Jack, "show the lass how it's done."

"This 'lad' doesn't know 'how it's done,'" Jack grunted.

"Watch and learn then," Gimli grinned. Without further ado, he threw back his shaggy head and downed at least half of his mug in one go.

Jack and Leigh shared an anxious glance and then carefully lifted their own drinks to their lips.

"Maylin," Leigh growled, "if I die, I am never speaking to you again."

Then both victims drew a hefty mouthful. For a moment the spectators thought that they would both manage to swallow. They were wrong. Leigh spewed the ale out in a geyser toward the perimeter of the camp, away from her companions. The thought had occurred to her that she owed Maylin something, but she decided it would be best not to anger the Elf this late at night. Jack, having had a bit of Elven manners drilled into him, courtesy of Captain Haldir, slowly and painful swallowed.

"That. Was. Disgusting," Leigh gasped.

"Glueh," Jack stuck out his tongue. "I have done many things since I came here, and I have enjoyed many, but this was not one of those things."

"The lassie can't hold her brew!" Gimli roared, smacking his legs. "Well done, Jack my lad, you at least managed to keep it in."

"How do you people drink that stuff," Leigh frowned. "It has to be the nastiest thing I've ever put in my mouth, dares aside that is."

Aragorn grinned and took a lengthy swig from his own mug. "Answer your question?" he smirked.

"You are intolerable," Leigh glared.

After a good five more minutes of teasing, Leigh decided to let Jack have the brunt of the jokes and took a stroll towards the hawthorn. The night was a little bit nippy and the teen soon wished that she'd taken another moment to grab her cloak, which had been safely stashed along with her bedroll. One of the things she had discovered on her journeys was that crickets seemed to be the universal creature. Everywhere in Middle-Earth that she'd visited had a healthy population of the little buggers, and, in someways, their chirps had become almost comforting in their familiarity. Of course, no noise is especially comforting when you're trying to go to sleep, so Leigh decided to appreciate them now before she went to bed, where she would most likely squash at least five that came too close to her ear. The thorn bushes rattled in a slight breeze and the bud-laden branches of the hawthorn swayed ever so slightly. Many of the Men had already curled up beneath their cloaks and blankets and gone off to sleep. Very few were still fully awake, the most awake being those that Leigh had just left behind. But there were still a few industrious or restless Men of Rohan who were stirring, going about polishing saddles, stroking the horses or speaking in low tones to their companions.

Much thought had Leigh given to a particular Horse Lord, and now she paused, uncertain whether to proceed or try a different route. Yes, what she had to say needed to be said, but it would be best if it could be said in a place where there was less chance of being overheard, not for her sake, but that of the man she wished to address.

With a sigh, Leigh crouched down beside the fire and stretched her hands out. A warm bubble had been formed around this area, and she had every intention of using it well. Most of the others who were still awake were also near the low blaze, those who weren't tending to their horses, that is.

As she mused on her thoughts, none other than the man in question came and hunkered down beside her, carefully avoiding the splayed limbs of his sleeping comrades. A knot settled in Leigh's gut. She still had her resolve, but she had no idea how to say what she needed to.

"Lord Eomer," she greeted with a nod.

"Lady Leigh." A few moments of silence descended and then Eomer continued. "It seems you have displaced you cloak, my lady."

"Not exactly," Leigh smirked, "but pretty close." More silence. Those crickets sounded kind of mocking now.

"I need to have a word with you," Leigh blurted. "Alone if possible."

Eomer looked confused but nodded his assent. Together, they walked to the edge of camp, out of hearing range from the sentries. When they had stopped, Leigh shivered as breeze blew by, tousling her hair. Eomer removed his cloak and made to wrap her in it, but Leigh stepped back, shaking her head and holding her palm out.

"How much do you know about me?" Leigh asked. Eomer looked confused. "That was a dumb question. Umm... I know things, things that haven't happened yet. Gandalf and Aragorn would probably skin me alive, but I believe that you can be trusted with this. Please prove me right." Eomer opened his mouth but Leigh rushed on. "Listen, I really shouldn't go into the details, but there is something I need to tell you right now, before you say one more word. There is someone out there waiting for you, I am NOT that person. If this war ever ends, I am certain that you will meet and you'll thank me for it then, but please just take my advice and wait. Boromir is my match, I know it, and so does he. You would only distress me and anger him by continuing in the manner you have thus far displayed."

The look on Eomer's face was well-nigh impossible to accurately describe. Surprise, confusion, hurt, and curiosity all took their turns dancing around in his eyes, and Leigh prayed that she had said the right thing.

"Please do not take my words the wrong way," she pleaded quietly. "You are a great, noble, and proud warrior, Lord Eomer, and anyone would be more than honored to call you friend. I can only hope that you will still consider me your friend after tonight, but I won't hold you to that. Oh man, that went badly." Without another word, Leigh jogged off, leaving Eomer to his own thoughts.

If the sun had been up, half the camp would have been able to see how bright red Leigh's cheeks were glowing. The knowledge that she might have just estranged Eomer forever was a sharp and painful burden. Had she made the right decision? There was no doubt really that the horse lord could be trusted with the information she had given him concerning herself, but had it been wise to tell him that his 'one and only' was someone else, and that she knew who she was? Leigh could only hope that she had chosen wisely.

Maylin wass still awake when Leigh came stumbling back into their 'area', looking up at the stars and waiting for Legolas to return with the other men, who had seemingly magically disappeared to some secret counsel or another. The sight of her friend half-dashing to her bed roll was a highly unusual one. Under normal circumstances Maylin would usually know why she was running, and would be pounding along right beside her, hoping to reach bed in time to look innocent when their victim discovered that he _was_ a victim. What on earth, or Middle-Earth, was the younger girl doing, running around a camp full of warriors in the middle of the night. She could think of one explanation, and he had long, blonde hair, a beard, and a fairly bad attitude.

The moment Leigh caught sight of her friend, she slowed down faster that was wise and ended up tripping and literally rolling into her blankets.

"That was an interesting display," Maylin cocked an eyebrow."Pray tell, what, or should I say _who_, was the cause?"

Leigh took one look at Maylin's face and moaned, shoving her head down into the thick, heavy blanket and the green cloak that had become her dearest companion. "I feel like an idiot."

"I might just agree with you," Maylin quipped. "What, exactly, did you do?"

"Something stupid."

"Yes, you seem to have a penchant for that, anything in specific?"

"You really don't wanna know," Leigh groaned, rolling over.

"Oh yes I do," Maylin replied. "As the oldest member of the Four, I demand to know what you did this time."

"I think Eomer's gonna kill me. Either that or I'm gonna kill myself out of embarrassment."

"Please tell me what you've been up to," Maylin groaned as she rested her chin on her fists.

"Preventing a war."

"Pardon?"

"Between Rohan and Gondor."

"Oh crud," Maylin said.

"You got it," Leigh retorted.

"What happened?" Maylin asked, not quite so worried any more on one level but quite worried on another.

"I said I knew the future," Maylin moaned, "and that I wasn't the girl he's supposed to end up with. After that I just said that I would still like to be friends, but that he needed to make that decision for himself."

"Good job," Maylin sighed, shoving a hand through her neat hair. "Things could have been a lot worse in said situation."

"It wasn't that good of a job," Leigh frowned. "I just sort of blurted it all out and I can only hope that the poor guy isn't in a state of shock right now from the speed of the words alone." Maylin started laughing. "It isn't funny!"

"Not for you, true," Maylin agreed.

"What is it with everybody laughing at me tonight?" Leigh demanded.

Her friend just shrugged and fell back on her blanket to stare up at the stars again.

Maylin had 'gotten used to' many of the beauties and wonders of Middle-Earth during her time their, but the stars always held her attention. All of her friends had been quick to point out that she was an Elf, and that this made perfect sense for her to enjoy the stars. But it seemed to Maylin that they were somehow different there than they were on the Earth she had been born in, and not just by arrangement. Their sparkling points of light seemed happier and brighter than they had in any other place. Many times, Maylin had visited country areas and the sort, where the stars were brighter without the city lights, but this was something completely different. Here, the complex swirls of glittering masses of diamonds seemed to be some sort of distant dance that was ever moving, albeit slowly, throughout the Ages. It didn't seem like they were truly burning orbs, light-years away from the grassy plains of Rohan. In fact, it was almost like they were alive, living jewels scattered in the velvety blackness of night sky by the Valar themselves. At least the Sun and Moon were alive here, at least supposedly, so why not the stars? They were like playful friends that could direct you across barren deserts and endless oceans; their glittering presences like so many twinkling comrades trying to each point the way out for you.

Stars seemed so significant to all the peoples of Middle-Earth, not just the Elves. While it was still the Elves that seemed to emblazon stars on just about everything they owned, their was a strange connection between the stars and the other races as well. The first thing that Sauron would do in his attack against Minas Tirith would be to hide the stars. Whenever a Nazgul flew over, Tolkien had nearly always mentioned that the stars were blotted out by the dark creature. There was a link between stars and hope in the minds of the many people that populated this mystical land, even if it was subconsciously.

The young Elf sighed as she watched a dazzling shooting star race by overhead. If it weren't for the thorns, this could be a nearly perfect night.

"A shooting star," Leigh said from somewhere near Maylin's feet. "That's a good omen, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Maylin replied, "at least on Earth it is."

"In some cultures."

"True."

"So something really good or really bad is supposed to happen sometime in the near future then, right?"

Maylin shrugged. "I guess."

A/N: Is that... foreshadowing I wrote? Laughs evilly You shan't find out for quite some time if you no review! Mwahaha! Say 'heat stroke' if you have read my author's notes... please.


	34. Broken upon the Rocks

Disclaimer: Let me see... the people who own the Lord of the Rings are all old... I'm not. So that must mean that I don't own the Lord of the Rings!

A/N: Now before you get your feathers in a ruff over the shortness of this chapter just read it. WAIT! Finish reading this first, you ditz. Sigh Some people. This has a lot of big stuff happening, so I thought I should just throw the punch and wait for the reaction. I can't wait to write more, review so I can post it as soon as I finish!

Broken upon the Stones

Deep voices grew out of the gloom to the right of the little huddle of friends, and in a few moments the missing members of their little fellowship appeared out of the darkness.

Legolas stepped around Jack's sleeping form and began working with his pack, setting up for the night. The two Men moved much slower, being far more careful with their clumsier feet lest they should awaken Jack from his extremely sound slumber. Once he had cleared the mess of blankets and bodies, Boromir moved over to Leigh's pile of blankets as the others prepared for sleep.

Curious, Leigh looked up at him and cocked her head in a question. There was a troubling, or troubled, look on the warrior's face, and it set her teeth on edge for some reason. 'It's just because you don't like to see him upset,' she told herself. Boromir's hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it many times within the last couple of hours, and his eyes looked feverish, but dull. A half-frown was set over his mouth, however, a hint of a hopeful smile rested their as well. Something was up alright.

"Would you care to take a walk with me, Leigh?" he whispered.

Jack took that opportunity to snore, which he rarely did, and Leigh pinched her nose to keep from laughing out loud.

"I'd love to," she snickered. Boromir smiled and helped her to her feet.

The tall lord pulled her hand through his arm and they strolled off into the quiet gloom of the deep night. Winds whispered through the grass and _shush_ed from the leaves of the great hawthorn. With Boromir by her side, the dark seemed warm and welcoming, something to wonder about and explore, not to hide from under the covers like a three-year-old. Sighing, she rested her head against Boromir's arm as they walked along.

It was strange how their relationship had progressed. There had always been something different about the other in their eyes, but, at the beginning, they had been really nothing more than friends and traveling companions. Now, here they were, admittedly in love with each other, taking a walk through the dark with only one another for company. Trials and shared adventures had hardened their friendship into something more, and just between the two of them. It was so much more than just common experiences, they were the first to greet the other, the last to say goodbye. All these things barely scratched the surface of their evolving relationship, and it didn't bother either of them in the least to lack the words to describe it. Only one word did their hearts justice: love.

After awhile of walking in silence, Boromir pulled Leigh to a stop and paused to make sure there was no one nearby.

"What are you doing?" Leigh laughed. Boromir turned his attention back to her and smiled warmly.

"Simply making sure that we shall not be disturbed, my lady," he smiled. "There is something I wish to ask you."

Who knew that such a simply phrase could do such things to a girl's heart? Leigh suddenly felt like a wild finch had gotten into her rib cage and was now flapping around madly. Was this it...? Was he going to...? Would this be the big moment?

Boromir's face had grown more solemn, but the same light was still in his eyes as he continued.

"I have given this much thought of late," he said. "And, now, I think I have come to the right conclusion. You know how I wish to show you my city." Leigh nodded enthusiastically. "I wish to take you there, to show my city to you, and show you to my city. Come with me, Leigh, come to Minas Tirith. We can be wed there, and we can defeat the darkness of Mordor together! Dawn is not all that far away, we could go to Minas Tirith _together_. _Together_ we can save the peoples of Middle-Earth. Just come with me. You know how to save us, we can protect the men and women of Gondor, save countless lives. No one is keeping you here, my love, you can leave whenever you choose. Come with me! Come with me to Minas Tirith!"

With those words, the world turned dark in Leigh's eyes. Her hand went slack and slipped from his. All of her hopes, all of her dreams had been shattered in one moment. The man she loved, the one she had wanted to spend the rest of her life with had betrayed her; he had used her, won her heart to win her knowledge. Never before had she felt so betrayed.

"Wretch!" Leigh yelled. "You jerk! Didn't you learn anything! Why? Why do you have do be such a jerk! I almost _died_ for you! I LOVED you!"

"And I love you," Boromir replied, rushing to calm her. "Peace, someone will hear!"

"Let them. Let them all hear about what a JERK you are!" Leigh screamed. "Traitor! I should have let you die defending the Hobbits! At least then you would have salvaged your _honor_! I hate you! Do you hear me? I-HATE-YOU! I hope you get stuck with a good dozen arrows like you should have!"

Sobbing, she wheeled and rushed off into the night.

Voices, angry voices, pounded against the calm of the night, rousing Men from their sleep and catching the attention of others.

Eomer was the first to recognize the shouting voice of lady Leigh. Since she had plucked up the courage to speak to him, he had been gazing into the fire and contemplating all the things she had said to him. But now his thoughts were shattered as the voice yelled in sheer anger and anguish. The horse lord frowned. Something was wrong, very wrong.

Wasting no time to answer the questioning gazes of his men, Eomer sprang to his feet and marched toward where the shouting had just come from. Boromir, the very man that he had considered his rival only an hour ago, stood there, alone, looking angry, sad, and hurt.

"Where is the lady Leigh?" Eomer demanded.

"Do I really look as if I know, my _lord_," Boromir snorted.

Eomer stepped forward and grabbed the front of the Gondorian's coat, dragging him closer.

"What caused lady Leigh to begin shouting?" he asked coldly.

"I merely asked for her to help my people," Boromir barked as he jerked himself free. "She became hysterical, yelling and screaming."

"You _fool_," Eomer growled. "Do you not see how one such as she would see that? Can you not see _what you were asking her to do_? You were asking her to change _fate_! Exactly what she hand her friends have been fighting so hard to prevent. You betrayed that woman, Boromir. Her 'hysterics' are more than justified." Boromir continued to glare and Eomer pushed on with a vengeance. "Earlier this night lady Leigh came to speak to me. Some of my actions had been... more than courteous. She told me that her heart was already claimed... by _you_. She continued on for some time about how you were her 'match', how much she cared for you, and how much she _thought_ you cared for her. But she must have been mistaken. No man who truly loved a woman would have asked such a thing of her."

The countenance of the proud Gondorian lord had melted into a look of shock and dismay as the light of reason and understanding finally dawned in his eyes.

"Oh," he moaned. Boromir fell to his knees on the hard earth. "What have I done? What have I done!"

"This is your affair," Eomer said curtly. "I do not know what madness possessed you, but it is not my place to interfere. My only advice is this: apologize to her, and do it soon. Wounds such as these fester when not tended." Without another word he went off again and left Boromir to his own thoughts.

For a few minutes Boromir was able to focus on the horrendous act he had committed. Would she ever forgive him? Would she ever be able to trust him again? Oh, what had he done?

"Boromir?"

He turned to see Aragorn frowning behind him, looking worried and concerned.

"Where is Leigh? What happened? I heard raised voices."

"We... quarreled," Boromir said slowly. "I... I asked her to come with me to Minas Tirith and... help my people."

"Boromir!"

"I know, Aragorn," Boromir wailed. "I was, _am_, a fool. Now I may have lost her trust forever."

"Not only hers," Aragorn glared. "Do you have any idea what she must be suffering at this moment?"

"I am sorry, Aragorn! I am sorry!"

"As well you should be."

Once again, Boromir was left alone in his misery.

Everything had come crashing down around her, and it no longer seemed to matter what direction she ran in, just as long as she got away from Boromir. Was this how Frodo had felt? Well obviously not exactly, but had he had this mad sensation of just wanting to put as much distance between himself and the Gondorian lord? How could he have done that? How could he have raised her hopes so high just to send them hurtling down around her ears? Why did it seem that every bad thing had to happen to her? Orks, Uruk-Hai, severe exhaustion, and now this. It just wasn't fair. Maylin and Jack had suffered one major trauma each, but it had only been ONE each, Leigh suffered from an overdose of issues.

Leigh's tears were so thick in her eyes that she hardly even saw where she going. All she knew was when a thorn bush was approaching, or some other such peril. It was a great shock when she tripped over something that was lying on the ground at her feet.

As she swept a hand out to find a handhold of some sort, her eyes cleared and she saw the face of none other than Peregrin Took close beside her. Her palm connected with something round, smooth, and cool by Pippin's side.

"Oh no," she gasped.

The palantir sucked her in and the world around her winked out.

A/N: Hey, I warned ya. Not one of the fluffiest chapters I've ever written for sure. Do thou likest the cliffy? Do ya? DO YA? Then review! Thanks plenty. Say 'rosebud' in your review if you have read ze author's notes!


	35. Ache

Disclaimer: Stop trying to scare me with all your lawyer mumbo-jumbo! I don't own the Lord of the Rings! Try worming around THAT!

A/N: Yay! A decent sized chapter! First off, I think it is high time I thank my lovely annonymous reviewers. I usually don't resond to them, but I do love you all! You rock! Don't be offended, it's just my policy that I don't respond to those, since I can't do it through blah-blah-blah. Anyways! I had nine reviews for the last chapter! Yippee! Keep that up, folks, and I will be even more inclined to write more often. This is proof! Ha! Yeah, I'll shut-up now. My birdies say hi! Phew! Nearly done with Two Towers! I can do this! Enjoy!

Ache

Everything was very foggy; dark and blurred. If Leigh had been present she would have quipped that it was from a severe lack of sleep due to late hours spent writing and chatting with a certain Captain at unheard-of hours of the night. The fact that it was also _still_ an unheard-of hour of the night might have impacted things as well.

Wait, how did she know it was still an unheard-of hour of the night? Her eyes were barely slit open and she couldn't exactly see yet, and hearing was coming in slower than she would wish.

"Loose us! Loose us! The cord hurts us, yes it does, it hurts us, and we've done nothing."

Now _there_ was a voice she recognized.

"Nothing? Have you never done anything worthy of binding or of worse punishment? However, that is not for me to judge, happily. But tonight you have come where it is death to come. The fish of this pool are dearly bought."

There was _another_ voice she recognized.

Something wet-sounding slapped against the floor. "Don't want fish."

Jaden finally widened one of her eyes to good-sized crack and managed to gather a few details of the fuzzy scene playing out before her. It seemed that the world had not stood still while she was asleep, for Gollum, the poor, pathetic creature, was now cowering on the floor between two impressive-looking guards before Faramir and the two Hobbits. There was skinny, slimy fish lying at Smeagol's feet, and Jaden thought that this must be one of the fish that had gotten him into this predicament.

As he heard the shifting of the covers and the creak of the cot, Smeagol turned his head, which was all he could really move, and spied Jaden shaking off the last wisps of sleep.

"What have they done to the Jaden?" he wailed. "Jaden looks ill! Yes, precious, she does! Have the mean Men hurt Jaden, too?"

"No, Smeagol," Jaden replied, trying desperately not to yawn, "the Men didn't hurt me, I'm just tired is all."

Gollum seemed unsure how to take this news, whether to be glad, angry, or suspicious.

"Jaden has betrayed us, too, precious! Jaden has turned on us," he cried at last.

"No I have not," Jaden frowned. "Just relax and answer their questions, I had to answer lots of questions, too, and you'll be fine."

Faramir handed Frodo a nail-knife from his belt and Gollum, misunderstanding the motion squealed and fell onto the floor.

"Now, Smeagol," Frodo said, "you must trust me. I will not desert you. Answer truthfully if you can. If will do you good, not harm." Then he cut off the ropes binding the miserable creature and raised him to his feet.

"Come hither!" Faramir ordered him. "Look at me! Do you know the name of this place? Have you been here before?"

Gollum carefully and unwillingly raised his eyes to meet the shrewd gaze of the Gondorian Captain. The differences between their characters and the superiority of Faramir's was clear instantly in Gollum's pale face and blank eyes as he looked into the other's cool stare. All of a sudden, Gollum broke the contact and curled up in a shivering ball on the floor. "We doesn't know and we doesn't want to know," he whimpered. "Never came here; never come again."

"There are locked doors and closed windows in your mind, and dark rooms behind them," Faramir stated. "But in this I judge that you speak the truth. It is well for you. What oath will you swear never to return; and never to lead any living creature hither by word or sign?"

"Master knows," Gollum said with a look through the corner of his eye at Frodo. "Yes, he knows. We will promise Master, if he saves us. We'll promise to It, yes." He crawled over to his Master's feet and whined, "Save us, nice Master! Smeagol promises faithfully. Never come again, never speak, no never! No, precious, no!"

"Are you satisfied?" Faramir asked Frodo.

"Yes," Frodo nodded. "At least, you must either accept this promise or carry out your law. You will get no more. But I promised that if he came to me, he should not be harmed. And I would not be proved faithless."

Faramir sat for a moment in thought, looking up and away through the stone walls around them. Taking the opportunity, Jaden carefully rose from the bed and slipped into a position next to Frodo while the Captain decided on Gollum's fate.

"Very good," he said at last. "I surrender you to your master, to Frodo son of Drogo. Let him declare what he will do with you!"

"But, Lord Faramir," Frodo said with a bow, "you have not yet declared your will concerning the said Frodo, and until that is made known, he cannot shape his plans for himself or his companions. Your judgement was postponed until the morning; but that is now at hand."

"Then I will declare my doom," said Faramir. "As for you, Frodo, in so far as lies in me under higher authority, I declare you free in the realm of Gondor to the furthest of its ancient bounds; save only that neither you nor any that go with you have leave to come to this place unbidden. This doom shall stand for a year and a day, and then cease, unless you shall before that term come to Minas Tirith and present yourself to the Lord and Steward of the City. Then I will entreat him to confirm what I hace done and make it lifelong. In the meantime, whomsoever you take under your protection shall be under my protection and under the shield of Gondor. Are you answered?"

"I am answered," Frodo replied with another bow, "and I place myself at your service, if that is of any worth to one so high and honorable."

"It is of great worth," Faramir answered. "And now, do you take this creature, this Smeagol, under your protection?"

"I do take Smeagol under my protection," Frodo said.

Sam sighed, and not because of all the courtesies. In fact, in the Shire there would have been many more words and bows.

"Then I say to you," Faramir said to Gollum, "you are under doom of death; but while you walk with Frodo you are safe for our part. Yet if ever you be found by any man of Gondor astray without him, the doom shall fall. And may death find you swiftly if you do not well serve him. Now answer me: whither would you go? You were his guide, he says. Whither were you leading him?" Gollum made no answer.

"This I will not have secret," Faramir threatened. "Answer me, or I will reverse my judgement!" Still Gollum remained as mute as a rock.

"I will answer for him," Frodo said. "He brought me to the Black Gate, as I asked; but it was impassible."

"There is no open gate into the Nameless Land," Faramir said.

"Seeing this, we turned aside and came by the Southward road," Frodo continued; "for he said that there is, or there may be, a path near to Minas Ithil."

"Minas Morgul," Faramir said.

"I do not know clearly," Frodo sighed; "but the path climbs, I think, up into the mountains on the northern side of that vale where the old city stands. It goes up to a high cleft ans so down to- that which is beyond."

"Do you know the name of that high pass?" Faramir asked.

"No."

"It is called Cirith Ungol." Gollum began hissing and muttering under his breath and Faramir turned sharply towards him. "Is that not its name?" Faramir demanded.

"No!" then he squealed like something had stabbed him, which Jaden instantly suspected to be Faramir's foot. "Yes, yes, we heard the name once. But what does the name matter to us? Master says he must get in. So we must try some way. There is no other way to try, no."

"No other way?" Faramir said. "How do you know that? And who has explored all the confines of that dark realm?" He watched Gollum for a few moments and then presently spoke again. "Take this creature away. Treat him gently, but watch him. And do not you, Smeagol, try to dive into the falls. The rocks have such teeth there as would slay you before your time. Leave us now and take your fish!"

The cringing creature was ushered away, clutching his hard-won trophy and Faramir closed the curtain to the alcove as he turned to the other three.

"Frodo, I think you do very unwisely in this," he told him. "I do not think you should go with this creature. It is wicked."

"No, not altogether wicked," Frodo objected.

"Not wholly, perhaps," Faramir agreed; "but malice eats it like a canker, and the evil is growing. He will lead you to no good. If you will part with him, I will give him safe-conduct and guidance to any point on the borders of Gondor that he may name."

"He would not take it," Frodo said. "He would follow after me as he long has done. And I have promised many times to take him under my protection and to go where he led. You would not ask me to break faith with him?"

"No," Faramir sighed. "But my heart would. For it seems less evil to council another man to break troth than to do so oneself, especially if one sees a friend bound unwitting to his own harm. But no- if he will go with you, you must now endure him. But I do not think that you are holden to go to Cirith Ungol, of which he has told you less than he knows. That much I perceived clearly in his mind. Do not go to Cirith Ungol!"

"Then where shall I go?" Frodo asked. "Back to the Black Gate and deliver myself up to the guard? What do you know against this place that makes its name so dreadful?"

"Nothing certain," Faramir said darkly. "We of Gondor do not ever pass east of the Road in these days. But there is some dark terror that dwells in the passes above Minas Morgul. If Cirith Ungol is named, old men and masters of lore will blanch and fall silent."

"But where else would you direct me?" Frodo said.

"I know not," Faramir said. "Only I would not have you go to death or to torment. And I do not think that Mithrandir would have chosen this way."

"Yet since he is gone, I must take such paths as I can find. And there is no time for long searching," Frodo said firmly.

"It is a hard doom and a hopeless errand," Faramir said. "But at the least, remember my warning: beware of the guide, Smeagol. He has done murder before now. I read it in him." The Captain sighed heavily

"Well, so we meet and part, Frodo son of Drogo," he said. "You have no need of soft words: I do not hope to see you again on any other day under this Sun. But you shall go now with my blessing upon you, and upon all your people. Best a little while food is prepared for you. Farewell!"

He rose and bowed low before the little Hobbit and drew the curtain as he passed out into the cave.

A few minutes later, Jaden sat on her bed, leaning back against the rough, cool wall. Her eyes were quietly closed in repose as Faramir strode over and waited for her to acknowledge his presence.

"There's a small stool to your left if I remember correctly," Jaden informed him, her eyes still lightly shut. "You don't have to stand up forever, you know."

He chuckled and took her advice. Once he had pulled over said stool and sat himself down, Jaden had opened her eyes and was watching him calmly with her dark eyes.

"All settled?"

"Yes," Faramir smiled. "One of my men told me that you had a request for me?"

"Actually, I do," Jaden sighed. Her eyes slipped to a sadder expression as she looked down to her crossed legs and lifted out a little parcel of papers which were folded together in the one origami pattern she had ever memorized. Carefully, she held the little creation out to the noble Gondorian. "These are letters to my other friends... the ones like me." Faramir nodded solemnly as he reverently accepted the strange little package. "There is a much greater chance of you ever seeing one of them than me, and... I wanted to say some things to them in case I never get the chance to in person."

"Gladly, do I accept your request," Faramir said. "But please understand that I may never even see my own city again, let alone your comrades."

"I understand," Jaden nodded. "Thank you very much, sir."

"You are very welcome, my lady," he bowed. Swiftly, he rose from his seat and moved to go off to attend to his other duties. But suddenly he paused, and he turned around to face Jaden again.

"There is only one thing I would ask to know," he said. "Is there any hope for us?"

Jaden sighed and raised her eyes to meet Faramir's. What she saw there didn't shock her terribly much, but it was moving, nonetheless. Deep shadows of care and pain were stretched across his beautiful eyes, and through their piercing gaze Jaden felt a small taste of the bitterness that plagued every waking hour of this man's life, from dawn to dusk. How could she answer him? Was there a limit to how muchshe was allowed to say in a situation like this? Somehow it felt wrong to send this great captain along on his way without at least a spark of light to guide him and warm him. But what could she say?

"Yes," she said at a length. "There is hope." 'And much of it rests in you,' she added silently.

All around her was a moving dark that reminded Leigh painfully of her last trip through some kind of time/ distance- shortening passageway. The fact that Pippin was in here somewhere as well was actually not all that comforting. Yes, it was very sad that the poor little fellow got the life scared out of him and endured some kind of torture, but that did NOT mean that she felt like she had rush in and save him. If she had wanted to help him she could have tossed a cloak over the thrice-blasted globe and tear it from his hands before bellowing for Gandalf.

However, considering the situation she now found herself in, none of the above options seemed to be workable. The only thing that it seemed she could really do was... nothing, just mentally bite her lip as she plummeted forward through space and the ugly black face of Barad-dur reared up in front of her.

She had been a Tolkien-junkie long enough to have a vague idea of what was coming: fire, pain and lots of nasty questions. The only thing she could hope for was that someone stumbled over her or Pippin's body sometime in the near future. Pippin probably screamed already while she was in her state of tears and blubbering, so it made sense that she hadn't heard him. Hopefully someone else did, though. 'Like the whole camp,' she thought to herself.

Instantly the blurred world around her screeched to a halt and the teenager found herself standing in a dark place where the only light was provided by blazing fire; no sunlight, or moonlight, or starlight could possibly penetrate such darkness. From the moment she arrived, she felt two other presences in the room. One was awesome and dark, though it was wreathed in tongues of flame, the other was small, helpless, and Leigh suspected that it had big, fuzzy feet and bore the name 'Pippin'. Dead Hobbit walking.

It seemed that Leigh had interrupted the interrogation, and Sauron, the dark one, immediately turned his eyes to her.

"Your presence is not required, leave me to question the Halfling," he ordered. Leigh shuddered but repressed a slight snicker at the same time. The shudder was caused by the fact that Sauron did not move his mouth... did he even have one? All he had needed to do was look at her and she understood him. The snicker, on the other hand, was generated from amusement that Sauron had just mistaken her for Saruman, just as he had done with Pippin. Did he have short eyesight or something?

Unfortunately, it didn't take the great shadow long to figure out that she wasn't Saruman, either. Then his curiosity was piqued.

"Who are you?"

Leigh clamped her jaw shut and balled her fists. Hot pain flowed out from her sternum and spread slickly through the rest of her bones. Now, Leigh was the sort who tended to hurt themselves in some minor way at least once a day, and bore at least three extremely notable scars from past incidents. She had felt her skin be ripped and blood ooze out, she had accidentally bent her fingernails backwards to a painful degree on more than one occasion, once she had even gathered in a good black eye, but she had never felt a pain like this. It felt like molten lava was pouring down _inside_ her bones.

Sauron pressed her for an answer, and finally, she answered, "None of your business."

Evidently the Dark Lord had never dealt with a moody teenager before, and for reasons unbeknownst to Leigh, he laughed at her answer. Then his focus was fixed on her, giving Pippin a brief moment of ease, and he truly noticed her.

It felt like knives were poking around all over her as he laughed, and Leigh ground her teeth in pained frustration. She began to wonder if it was at all possible to fight back. Unlikely.

"Prophet," Sauron rumbled to himself.

After this he withdrew to some extend once again and his attention was split between Pippin and Leigh, and gave his instructions to the first.

"Wait a moment!" he laughed at Pippin struggled against the control of the palantir. "We shall meet again soon. Tell Saruman that these dainties are for him. I will send for them at once. Do you understand? Say just that!"

Gloating, he leered over them and both of the victims felt like they were falling to pieces, right there and then.

Suddenly Pippin vanished from next to Leigh and she knew that he had been called back by the White Wizard.

Now she gloated, raising her chin as she glared at the great, flaming shadow before her.

"Prophet," he said to himself once again.

"You won't beat me," Leigh growled. Sauron laughed again and the knives returned. Yelling through her pain, Leigh shouted out, "I won't let you win!"

Maylin and Legolas had been quietly talking with one another when the scream came. In half a heartbeat, Legolas had leapt to his feet, and Maylin rose swiftly behind him. Oh, she knew exactly what that was, it was poor, little Pippin screaming from the torture of the palantir. Without exchanging more than a look, they both dashed off toward the source of the sound as Jack floundered awake in his twisted covers.

For a few minutes, all he could do was kick his legs and wiggle his arms until he had sufficient room to wriggle out of his cloth cocoon. When he finally did emerge, men were running through the little campsite to get to the scene of the incident that had awoken them all. Jack stumbled along after them as best he could, only tripping over something once.

Gandalf reached the prone figures first, tossing his cloak over the deadly sphere as he approached.

"So this is the thief!" he cried, referring to Pippin. "But you, Pippin! This is a grievous turn to things! And poor Leigh as well!" Both of the two were lying rigidly on their backs, staring up at the sky with unseeing eyes. "The devilry! What mischief has he done- to himself, and to the rest of us?" The old wizard's face was drawn and haggard with worry and probably lack of sleep.

He turned his attention first to Pippin as Aragorn raced in and hovered by his side, ready to help. For a moment he took Pippin's hand and bent over his face, listening for his breath; then he laid his hands on his brow. The Hobbit shivered and his eyes closed. Without warning he cried out and sat up, staring in bewilderment at all the faces now gathered around in the moonlight.

"It is not for you, Saruman!" he cried in a shrill and toneless voice as he recoiled from Gandalf. "I will send for it at once. Do you understand? Say just that!" Then he struggled against Gandalf, but the good old wizard restrained him gently and firmly.

"Peregrin Took!" he said. "Come back!"

Without another outburst, Pippin did indeed relax. He fell back, clutching Gandalf's hand like it was the only thing keeping him from slipping back into the palantir. "Gandalf!" he sobbed. "Gandalf! Forgive me!"

"Forgive you?" the wizard said. "Tell me first what you have done! But hold, Leigh must be brought back as well, and without delay!" Swiftly, he bent over the young woman and repeated his callings and coaxes.

Leigh snapped out of her trance in the same, abrupt manner, crying out as she bolted upright. However, she didn't speak, as Pippin had. Instead, she curled up in a ball and shivered, clutching Gandalf's hand as Pippin had.

Once he was sure that the girl was out of danger, Gandalf knew he had to return over to the Hobbit and discover exactly what the lad had done, and what consequences it might carry. He shuffled over again on his knees and once again took Pippin's hand as Aragorn swooped down and held the shaking Leigh firmly in his arms.

Receiving a nod to continue from the ancient wizard, Pippin related the terrifying events of his experience with the palantir as the surrounding audience listened with startled fear.

A few yards away, however, a separate little group had gathered around the thoroughly shaken Leigh, consisting of Aragorn who still held her safely and gently, Maylin, Jack, and Legolas, who was standing in a position to hear both the conversation between Gandalf and the Hobbit, and his other young friend who had had the misfortune to quite literally stumble upon the palantir.

Once Gandalf had finished prying information from and lecturing the young Hobbit, he carefully scooped him up and carried him off to bed again. Following his example, Aragorn rose with Leigh and took her back to her own bed, leaving Maylin and Jack with her. Then he went away again to attend the council which was doubtless about to take place.

"Are you alright?" Jack asked, crouching beside Leigh's bed.

"Let me see," Leigh muttered, "the man I love just proved to be a faithless worm, I tripped over Pippin and got sucked into the palantir, and then I got grilled by the most evil being in Middle-Earth, and by grilling I mean literally and figuratively."

"I won't even ask," Maylin snorted as she fetched a water skin from her pack. "Water: the cure-all drink."

"Thanks," Leigh smirked as she swallowed a mouthful.

"You mentioned Boromir," Jack pointed out. "What happened?"

"He wanted me to go to Minas Tirith with him and use my 'talents' to help his people."

"Dead man walking," Maylin breathed. "Is he still able to use all of his appendages?"

"Yeah," Leigh said, rolling over. "Unfortunately."

"Not if Maylin gets to him," Jack said.

"To some extent he'll get what he was after," Maylin glowered.

"Of course," Leigh moaned. "I should have thought of that."

"What?" Jack looked between the two of them. "What am I missing?"

"Gandalf's going to take her to Minas Tirith with him," Maylin pouted.

"WHAT?" Jack gaped. "But... but... we just got back together! That's not fair! And we need each other! You can't be serious!"

"She is," Leigh sighed.

"Leigh," Maylin whispered harshly, "we both know what kinds of things happen at Minas Tirith."

"Yes."

"This can't be happening," Jack moaned, going back on his heels and putting his head down in his hands.

"Sorry, Jack, deary," Leigh patted his knee, "it is."

At that moment a shadow far darker than those of nature fell across the moon in the shape of a great, flying beast. Every being in the camp was frozen with terror besides those that crouched down and flung their arms over their heads as it passed by over head. Suddenly the shape veered north and flew away with a speed far greater than any wind in Middle-Earth.

Once it was gone, the three young companions heard Gandalf's voice shouting from the other side of the camp, and Maylin and Jack hurriedly helped Leigh stuff her few things into her pack before Gandalf came blowing by like a rushed storm cloud.

"Come, Leigh!" he called. Pippin was already in his arms and Aragorn was running along behind. "There is no time now to tarry, as I am sure you know! Hurry!"

Speedily, she embraced each of her friends and jogged off after Gandalf.

"Take care!" Maylin shouted.

"You, too!" Leigh answered. And then she was gone from their sight.

Quickly, she scrambled after the wizard until they reached the place where he had slept, and there waited Shadowfax... as well as one unexpected man. Boromir stood there, looking confused and lost, but a light kindled in his eyes when he saw Leigh trotting up. Gandalf swung his saddle bags over the horse's back, and quickly leapt on after them. Wasting no time, Aragorn lifted Pippin up and set him before the Wizard.

"Are you sure Shadowfax can carry all of us?" Leigh asked doubtfully.

"He has born greater burdens," Gandalf assured her. "And you and Pippin are both light enough loads, he shall have no trouble. Now hurry! There is no time to loose!"

Boromir stepped forward to help Leigh mount, but she tartly jerked away from him and Aragorn assisted her to swing up behind the old wizard and showed her how to hang on.

"It looks like you got what you wanted," Leigh hissed at Boromir. "I'm going to Minas Tirith." The man looked dumbstruck as Gandalf raised a cry.

"Farewell! Follow fast!" the wizard cried. "Away, Shadowfax!"

The great horse tossed his head and flicked his tail. Then he leapt forward and they were off at a breakneck speed toward Minas Tirith, riding literally like the wind.

Maylin and Jack rushed up to watch the light shape vanish into the darkness, and catch one last glimpse of their friend. Aragorn put a hand on both of their shoulders.

"Leigh will be alright," he reasoned. "Worse things have happened to her since we first departed from Rivendell."

"I just have a really bad feeling," Maylin shivered.

"I do, too," Jack trembled.

"That's morbid talk," Aragorn chastised them. "We will all see her again, you will see. Now come, our own journey awaits us even now. Pack everything of yours and anything that Leigh left behind; we ride soon."

The two looked out into the darkness for a minute more, and then they turned and prepared for their own adventures.

A/N: Well? What did ya think? PLEASE review! I will never get any better if I don't get any feedback! There will also be longer periods of time between updates if there is little feedback! So there! Say 'black lab' (as in the dog) if you have read me loverly noteses! Namarie till next time!


	36. Twists and Riddles

Disclaimer: The more I read it, the more I want to own it, however the rights would cost a LOT more than I own so I have to say... I do not own the Lord of the Rings. Are you happy now? You made me cry!

A/N: Hello again! This is for all you Jaden-fans out there. Lots and lots of Jaden. The other characters _should_ be in the next chapter, but I'm not for sure. Poor Jaden has had her story fall a bit behind the others so... yeah. I am so happy! I finally figured out the rest of her plot! It kept on changing and changing... but now it is all set! Yay! I have nothing important to say... wish me fun at the opera with my friends! We shall have fun! Yay! That's it, I'll go away now, bye... see you at the end!

Twists and Riddles

Jaden reflected as she tromped along through the scraggly vegetation after their unwholesome guide. The parting with Faramir had been simple and heartfelt, even though not a single tear had been shed in either party. True to his great 'quality', the Gondorian Captain had given them as much travel-food as could be stuffed into their shrinking packs, which now felt wonderfully heavier, as well as bestowing each of them with a sturdy, metal-tipped walking staff to aid them in their rough travels. Before he had left, Faramir had clasped each of their shoulders in turn and left a kiss upon their brow, as was the Gondorian manner. Now Jaden felt as if she had just left yet another dear friend behind her, as she trudged on to meet her fate.

Before her meeting with Faramir, Jaden had not believed that it was possible to bond with another person so quickly in such a way. And yet, there she was, on her way to Mount Doom, and he on his way to save his city and face the rigors of the Nazgul. Who was to say that she wouldn't be seeing more of the Nazgul as well? It would be just her luck to run straight into one of those nasty, black, demented wraiths and mess things up royally.

'Stop it,' she criticized herself. 'It's not like you need anymore stress in your life, you twit. So quit the morbid daydreaming.'

It didn't take too long for the teen to be deeply grateful to Faramir for his gift of the staves. Boulders, rough ground, and slippery little streams were no longer so much of an issue with her trusty staff. The two Hobbits seemed to be putting their own walking aids to good use as well. On one occasion, Jaden nearly slipped on a slimy rock and went swimming with some of Gollum's precious fish, there was no doubt that she would have toppled in if it hadn't been for the wondrous walking stick. In the future, she decided that every walking stick she would ever own would be equipped with a metal tip. Oh, it was a wonderful thing.

The air held a deep foreboding, like the strain before a thunderstorm breaks loose. Every breath seemed labored as the four strange companions clambered over the landscape toward the towering, shadowy mountains ahead of them that nearly blocked out the sky. It seemed almost as if the very atmosphere feared what was about to be unleashed from the dark pits of Mordor, and knew of the tiny feet that bore Middle-Earth's greatest and only hope. The birds had fled or lost all inclination to sing, and the thrice-blasted crickets had vanished. For once, Jaden would have welcomed even their tedious chirps in the stale air. Nothing breathed, nothing moved, all was waiting, waiting for the doom of the world to be clinched.

Four pairs of feet marched in steady rhythms, straight and to the point, wasting no time that could be used to get closer to that accursed destination. There are many kinds of anticipation, and the one that hung over the whole of that land was more akin to dark knowledge of things to come, or the fear of them at least. The prophecies Jaden bore grew heavier as she went along, screaming common-sense and other nuisances at her.

Honestly, what did a girl who hadn't even graduated highschool think she could do to save an entire world? The idea was ludicrous to say the least. At least the Hobbits were mature beings who knew what they were doing to some extent, Jaden had barely even gone camping a few months ago, for crying out loud! On the other hand, the average teenager didn't have knowledge of future events, either. She knew what was supposed to happen, and when it was supposed to happed, that had to count for something. Really, she was going along as less of a 'companion' and more of 'time line-chaperone'. Not that it really mattered, she had already messed up the time line by simply being there, so if she died she might actually be setting it straight to some extent. Of course, she was quite confident in her friends' ability to thoroughly wreck anything very well on their own.

Soon, as they walked along, Smeagol seemed to remember Jaden's knowledge of riddles, and decided to try a few rounds with his only female friend.

"Voiceless it cries;

Wingless it flutters;

Toothlessly bites;

Mouthless mutters.

"What is it? Does the Jaden know? Has Smeagol stumped her on the first try?" he cackled.

"Wind," Jaden said confidently. "Leigh and Maylin would tan my hide if I got that one wrong. My turn.

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?"

"It is a _man_, precious," Gollum gurgled after a moment.

"A man!" Sam exclaimed. "Of course! How silly of me! First he crawls as an infant, then walks as a man, then walks with a cane! How simple!"

"It's called the Riddle of the Sphinx," Jaden told him. "It comes from an ancient story. This Sphinx would sit above a road and ask that riddle to everyone who passed, and if they didn't get it right, they died."

"Sounds like a nasty creature," Sam wrinkled up his nose.

"Lessons later," Gollum snapped. "Now is Smeagol's turn.

"This thing all things devours;

Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;

Gnaws iron, bites steel;

Grinds hard stone to meal;

Slays king, ruins town;

And beats high mountain down."

"I think that it is only fair to tell you, Smeagol," Jaden smirked, "that I know all the riddles you and Bilbo used on each other, so repeating them won't work on me. The answer is time. Do you have any new ones?"

"Haven't had time," Smeagol sniffed. "Everybody chasing poor Smeagol, no time to think."

"I have one," Frodo piped in. "Let me see...

"Only one color, but not one size;

Stuck at the bottom yet easily flies;

Present in sun, but not in rain;

Doing no harm and feeling no pain."

"Oh I know, Mr. Frodo, I know!" Sam exclaimed. "It's a shadow! I was just thinking about mine, it looks like I'm some tall Elf, and not a Hobbit at all. Now I'll try one, if I may.

"Little Nancy Etticoat;

In a white petticoat;

And a red nose;

The longer she stands;

The shorter she grows."

"Leave it to Sam to stump us all," Jaden sighed. "I don't know what it is at all."

"I agree. Sam... Oh wait! Now I have it!" Frodo laughed. "It's a candle! The longer she stands the more of her _melts_. Wonderful, Sam! Do you have another one?"

"In fact I do, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, a bit cockilly. "Try this one.

"Black within and red without;

With four corners round about."

"Oh, that's too easy," Jaden sniffed. "It's a chimney. My turn!

"A hill-full, a hole-full;

You cannot catch a bowl-full."

"Mist," Gollum hissed, "lovely mistses that float around the mountains and confound the yellow face.

"Round like an apple, deep like a cup;

Yet all the King's horses can't pull it up."

"Oh goodness," Frodo said. "It's a hole, and I'm afraid we'll have to delay any more riddles for now, friends, for there is a rather deep one just ahead of us."

The rest of the day slipped back under the oppressive weight of the air, and no more riddles were exchanged among the four of them. Of course, all the while Gollum was making a nice wreck of his brains trying to come up with a new riddle.

Despite the friendly air Gollum seemed to be displaying, Jaden't gut kept her on her toes. Both the book and movie seemed to agree on the pivotal fact that Gollum/Smeagol could NOT be trusted, under any circumstances. Being unsure whether the Winding Stair would follow the simple struggle from the books, or the tense, emotional betrayal that Peter Jackson (to the massive chagrin of the book fans) had added in, Jaden thought it wise to keep a close and sharp eye on her froggy companion. Treachery was the creature's middle name, and Jaden had not seen a large enough change in his plotted behavior to believe that he could be turned and put back on a true path. There was nothing she could do to help Smeagol any more than she already had, but she could certainly help Frodo, and stand by Sam's side, offering a sturdy arm of support and guidance.

If Smeagol turned on her, he would get a nasty surprise, of that she was certain.

For the next few days, nearly all they did was walk, with Sam occasionally ordering a rest when the others would have kept going towards their dark destination until their legs gave out. The Hobbit was sure to make sure that at least a few bites of sustenance found their way into his master's and friend's mouths. Despite Sam's best efforts, though, sleep still remained an elusive companion to the other two non-deformed members of the party. It was quite obvious what kept Frodo awake when they stopped, but Jaden's thoughts were slightly harder to discern.

Often now, she found herself wondering after her friends, thinking up every possible situation that they could possibly be in, and a little row of graves was an option that was continually popping up in her head. Maybe they were somewhere happy, somewhere good. Maybe Maylin and Leigh were tromping around in Fangorn Forest, banished there by Aragorn or Gandalf until the entire mess of the war had been cleared up... yeah right, and maybe the Easter Bunny would fly in with a squad of reindeer and take out all the Orcs before Minas Tirith when the time came. Fat chance. After all the years Jaden had spent with all three of her friends, she knew they weren't the type to be sidelined. Jack's wound wouldn't keep him pinned down very long, and Leigh and Maylin would fight tooth and nail with any man who told them that their fighting wasn't 'safe'.

A frightening idea floated in with her fears concerning her friends: was it the Ring putting these worries in her head? Maybe she wasn't as immune as she thought she was, maybe the Ring was just playing with her. It was not a comforting thought at all.

So sleep stayed away, and the life style of trekking zombie settled in over her active consciousness. All around her, the land echoed her growing fatigue. There was mold everywhere, and the plants were nearly all dead, or half dead. Thorn bushes were clumped in prickly humps all along the hills and in the little valleys, and most of these had given up life some time ago. In Jaden's eyes, it seemed that everything was rotting, slowly and steadily, as if the decay of Minas Morgul had spilled out for leagues around it. Honestly, that would hardly surprise Jaden, she had seen stranger and far more unbelievable things. However, this just might be the most disturbing thing she had seen since leaving with Frodo and Sam, and that included the nasty dead corpses in the Dead Marshes.

Slowly, Jaden's dreams turned strange and twisted, always having something to do with at least one of the things from Mordor. One night when she actually managed to sleep, she had the following dream.

_Jaden was once again sitting in her two friends' dorm room/ apartment, and both of its occupants sat in front of her in plush chairs that didn't fit with the rest of the decor at all. They looked like something off of a cheap talk show, and both of the girls occupying them looked like they had been recently brainwashed and sucked backwards in time by a few decades. Jaden herself was sitting on a rough, uncomfortable tree stump and found that she wasn't at all surprised by the strangeness of the setting._

"_What are the Nazgul?" she asked mechanically._

"_They are like ghosts," Maylin answered._

"_But they are zombies," Jaden replied._

"_No," Maylin said._

"_Yes, the walking dead," Jaden argued in a monotone voice._

"_No," Leigh said. "They have no bodies any longer. They are spirits, nothing more, nothing less."_

"_They are the dead," Maylin said._

"_And the undead," Leigh continued._

"_They are malevolent," Maylin said._

"_And empty," Leigh said._

"_What are we?" Jaden asked._

"_We are what does not belong," Maylin said. "We are dead to our own world, yet we walk in our own flesh."_

"_We are zombies," Leigh stated._

_Now Jaden could see that tiny fragments of flesh were falling from the limbs and faces of both of the other girls. Their hair grew frazzled and coarse, and their eyes shrank back in their heads._

"_We are the undead," Maylin said. _

_Then as black shrouds grew from their skin and covered their decaying faces, they said in harmony, "We are the Nazgul."_

They were now reaching the cross roads, a place of sorrow for things lost and hope for things to come. It was perhaps the best single place that reflected the soul of Gondor. While things may seem bleak, and may _be _bleak, there is always hope for the morn. The sun will rise again, and hope will live on.

As the dreary companions trooped into the little, treeless area of the two roads that met there, the sun broke through the growing cloud cover, and all but Sam gave a little wince at the expose such bright like could give. A tall statue stood to one side of the way, clearly sculpted by those who had made the massive kings of the Argonath. Yet this ruler had not faired so well as the timeless memorial of Isildur and Anarion. Foul hands had hacked the head from the robed shoulders and replaced it with a crudely fashioned head of their own, grinning and with one eye. Malicious scrawls littered the rest of the statue and Jaden was very glad that she couldn't understand them. Then the light illuminated the toppled head of the old king, lying in dishonor by the side of the road. But Frodo, seeing it first, exclaimed, "Look! Look! The king has got a crown again!"

And it was as he said. Though the initial decoration had been practically scraped away, two flowering vines, one with blossoms of white, and the other gold, had curled over the king's brow and into his hair to make a splendid crown for him, once again, as there had been in the days of old. Though his eyes were sunken and his beard was hacked, a fair nobility had been granted once again to this king of Men by the love of two little plants, that perhaps had granted to great a gift simply by mistake as they sought for the sunlight. Jaden was sure that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life, and certainly the most moving.

"They cannot conquer forever!" Frodo cried. Then, suddenly, the light fell away again, and the miraculous image was gone.

Gollum, always the practical one, wasted no more time. Pulling on Frodo's cloak he hissed, "We must go. We mustn't stand here. Make haste!"

Obediently, though not happily, the other three followed behind their guide once again. For a little while longer, they trudged along, burdened by fatigue or other, more serious ailments that impeded their feet. The road twisted one way and then climbed. The only thing Jaden could think of was that they were about to do much worse climbing, so this really shouldn't be so hard... but her feet suddenly had developed a mind of their own. Was it possible for feet to go on strike?

Frodo froze beside her, and then stumbled backwards toward the rock wall behind them, gasping and staring ahead with wide eyes like a fish. For a moment Jaden frowned, and then she turned, and saw the horrendous sight of Minas Morgul, City of the Dead.

Once upon a time, the city had been a flawless, white reflection of the moon, pure and lovely. Now, however, it was white as the pale, decaying flesh of the dead. There was a pale light that seemed to come from the decaying city, but it was a dead light, the light of rotting souls that illuminated nothing. The black, gaping windows pockmarked the tower that spiraled above the walls and looked like holes eaten in the rotting, white flesh of the tower by maggots. There was a section on the topmost section of the obelisk that revolved back and forth slowly, like some weird head looking across the lands before it.

All four of the travelers were now caught in the eery chill of the place, and their feet were frozen to the ground. Gollum was the first to regain his senses, shocker, I know, his instincts for survival conquering the bone-chilling fear faster than the ordinary courage of the others. Frantically, he pulled at his master's cloak and the party began to move again, although it felt as if they were moving in slow motion, like when you're running from something in the dream and feel as if you're moving through water. However this didn't stop the fiendish little creature as he nearly dragged them all forward towards the white bridge ahead of them.

Across the bridge, all could see that the road ran up to the great, black mouth of the city's gate. There were meads on either side of the road across the river, and they were filled with strange white flowers that bloomed all about. The shapes of these blossoms were contorted and strange, and the smell the issued out was far from lovely, and filled the air with the a charnel-smell. Under the bridge, a still river lied, billowing up white steam, which was deadly cold.

Frodo's eyes darkened and he stumbled towards the awful bridge, towards the rotting city, his hands held out before him, groping. Everyone of Frodo's companions charged forward and brought him crashing down just on the threshold of the bridge.

"Not that way!" Gollum hissed. "No, not that way!"

"Hold up, Mr. Frodo!" Sam pleaded in his master's ear. "Come back! Not that way. Gollum says not, and for once I agree with him."

The shaken Hobbit managed to get a small grip on reality and both Sam and Jaden aided him along after Gollum, who was already scuttling away into the darkness. There was a small gap in the wall of stone along the road, and through this they passed. Now they were on a narrow path that gleamed strangely as the main road had up until they climbed above the white flowers in the meads below, then it became terribly dark. As they hurried along, they kept on taking glances behind themselves toward the dead city, whether out of fear or fascination they did not know.

A/N: I was actually planning on having the bit with the Witch King and all that in this chapter but... it just didn't happen, sorry. You'll see him soon, I promise! PLEASE review! I work on a review basis here, the fewer reviews, the less I work. And that's just how it is. I would love to hear who your favorite members of the Four are, what you think I'm gonna do with them (this makes very humorous reading for me on occasions), and what ships you're pushing for. Say... 'Sir Pickles' if you have read my noteses. That's one of my birds' names, by the way. Just thought I'd mention that.


	37. Wraith Light

Disclaimer: Do I look rich to you? Honestly? Come on, get a life, I am nowhere near good enough to have actually written the Lord of the Rings, and I am certianly not rich enough to have bought the rights! I do not own anything in this fic besides the Four.

A?N: Yes, I know, this is, like, the shortest update ever. But please understand! Yesterday I slept all morning after the opera (we stayed up LATE) and tomorrow my whole family is getting together to celebrate the June birthdays, and then the day after that IS my birthday and I shall be partying and then the next day my friends will still be here because they spent the night, ect. So, I figured that it was better to give you a short bit than nothing. Am I right? I hope so. Enjoy!

Wraith Light

Frodo had collapsed from exhaustion on the rocky slope. For a moment, the others followed his example and took a short rest after their terrifying scuttle over the lands before Minas Morgul. The dreaded city was still in sight, however, so they were forced to coax Frodo to his feet once again. Gollum was frantically shushing and pointing towards the awful path that climbed up into the dark mountains, eager to get completely away from the rotten walls of the dead city and into the shadowy safety of the massive rocks. All of them were still exposed to any prying eyes that should happen to look in the right direction from the city, and this really didn't sit terribly well with anyone, least of Gollum, who lived by hiding and sneaking.

"Not here, no. Not rest here. Fools! Eyes can see us. When they come to the bridge they will see us. Come away! Climb, climb! Come!" Gollum whispered in a frantic and savage voice.

"Come, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "He's right again. We can't stay here."

"All right," Frodo replied as if he was half-asleep. "I will try." With a great effort he regained his feet.

However his rising was too late, for at that moment the rocks beneath them shook and a great rumbling rolled over them. Without any further warning, a great red flash of magma from Mt. Doom flared up high above the peaks of Mordor's black fence. A crack of thunder resonated through the mountains.

And then Minas Morgul answered. Livid forks of blue, flame-like lightning shot up the tower from the surrounding hills and pierced into the heavy clouds overhead. The earth groaned as if in mortal pain and a cry rose from behind the dead white walls of Minas Morgul. The harsh and high voices of some sort of birds of prey and the shrill screams of horses driven mad by fear and rage were mingled with an unearthly screech that rose up swiftly to a pitch beyond hearing. The hobbits and Jaden whirled towards it and dropped down to the ground with their hands slapped over their ears.

Once the bone-grating cry had finally ended, Jaden lifted her head and saw that the ferocious gates of Minas Morgul, looking like an open mouth, armed with sharp fangs, had opened and out of it came a great army.

Every soldier was dressed fully in black, standing out like a host of black ants against the luminescent walls of the city. At their head, rode a solemn mass of cavalry that moved like ordered shadows. Dark and terrible they were, and yet he who led them stirred ten-fold the fear alone than all the host behind him combined. Like the others, he was clad in black, however, a helm like a crown adorned his hooded head. Jaden stared at him, unable to look away from the empty hood. This was the Lord of the Nine Riders, returned to earth once again after his defeat at the Ford. He was drawing near the bridge, and Jaden could neither blink not look away. This was he who had dragged her from her own world along with the other members of the Four. Thanks to him, she was now in the position she was in, and it was because of him that an innocent boy had been murdered. A cold chill shivered over Jaden's entire body, a reminiscence of the dark journey between worlds.

Beside Jaden, Frodo was locked in a deadly battle between his own will and the twisted will of the thing born round his neck. The teen knew of this fearsome dual, but her own thoughts were absorbed by the threatening presence of the Nazgul below her. Jaden now held Eowyn, the woman who would soon slay this dreadful monster, in an even higher reverence, for there she lay, unable to even stir from the ground in his presence.

At the moment that Frodo defeated his inner battle, the Wraith-king turned and spurred his horse across the bridge and rode away with his dark host following him. The Lord of Mordor, his master, had set the signal, and he was now commanded to bring war to the West.

It did not take long for him to pass, and soon he was gone like a shadow into shadows, down the winding road. The greatest host since the days of Isildur began to march across the bridge, and this would be the first to assail the fords of Anduin. It was by far the greatest army that Mordor had yet produced.

As the dread left them, the little travelers' hearts went out to Faramir. Now a host beyond any that Gondor or the world had yet seen was marching on his homeland, and the storm would burst in time upon the walls of his own, beloved city. Frodo's heart fell into despair as he watched the black army stream forth from the dark mouth Minas Morgul. All that he had done had been and would be in vain, for the fair realm of Gondor would not survive such an assault, and all would be wiped away before it. J

Then, like the morning sun of the Shire had suddenly broken through his foggy thoughts, Sam's voice penetrated his mind and said, "Wake up, Mr. Frodo! Wake up!" He half expected the next bit to be saying that his breakfast was ready, and it would have come as no surprise. "Wake up, Mr. Frodo! They're gone," he said.

The dull clang of a hollow bell sounded from the city and the gates closed. On down the road, the last sight of spears had faded and though the tower still grinned across the valley, the light in it was dimming. A dark, brooding state had settled on it, and it was now watchful once again.

"Wake up, Mr. Frodo! They're gone, and we'd better go too. There's something still alive in that place, something with eyes, or a seeing mind, if you take me; and the longer we stay in one spot, the sooner it will get on to us. Come on, Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo raised his head and then rose from the rocks. Though despair had not left him, the weakness had passed, and he was now able to continue on their hopeless errand. Even if no one ever knew about it, he now knew that he must complete this task. He pulled the Phial of Galadriel out and watched as the light peered out between his fingers, and then shoved down his shirt so that it lied over his heart. He then turned from the city of Morgul, which was now no more than a grey glimmer, and prepared himself to take the upward path.

Less than an hour had passed as the three mounted on Shadowfax shot over the grassy plains. Already they had passed the Fords of Isen and the island with the grim mound and the thicket of spears. It seemed almost like they were flying, for Shadowfax needed no urging and no guidance, he simply dashed across the ground with the speed of a storm wind.

Pippin was a most resilient Hobbit, he was bouncing back already. While he was sufficiently warm, the cool wind on his face felt wonderfully refreshing, and his ordeal with the palantir seemed to have been little more than a dream dreamt in the mountain mists.

"I did not know you rode bare-back, Gandalf," he said. "You haven't a saddle or a bridle!"

"I do not ride elf-fashion, except on Shadowfax," Gandalf replied. "But Shadowfax will have no harness. You do not ride Shadowfax: he is willing to carry you- or he is not. If he is willing, that is enough. It is then his business to see that you remain on his back, unless you jump off into the air."

"How fast is he going?" Pippin wondered. "Fast by the wind, but very smooth. And how light his footfalls are!"

"He is running now as fast as the swiftest horse could gallop," Gandalf answered; "but that is not fast for him. The land is rising a little here, and is more broken than it was beyond the river. But see how the White Mountains are drawing near under the stars! It will not be long before we reach the branching roads and come to the Deeping-coomb, where the battle was fought two nights ago."

"Good heavens," Leigh commented from the back of the little party. "We've been at this for less than an hour and already the little man is asking questions! Pippin, you have an unhealthy penchant."

"It's only unhealthy if you ask the wrong people the wrong questions," Pippin replied.

"And I suppose you know all about that," Leigh snorted.

"A Hobbit with my experience knows lots about all kinds of things," Pippin said proudly.

"Clearly not enough things," Leigh shot back, "or you wouldn't be asking so many questions all the time."

"Goodness me," Gandalf said aloud. "I fear I have now placed myself between a rock and a hard place, and neither of them can keep their peace."

"I have a new game for you, Pippin!" Leigh called. "Let's see who can stay quiet the longest!"

"You know I'll win," Pippin sniffed.

"Fat chance, start now!"

For the next long span of time, silence reined besides the click of hooves and the shushing winds. Stars shone overhead and slowly slipped away as the moon climbed high above their heads. All around them, the grass swayed and danced in the patterns set by the wind, and it seemed as if they were riding in through a great, grey ocean that billowed and waved all around them. After a good long while, Leigh risked a peek around Gandalf and confirmed that Pippin was indeed asleep. His head was leaning back against Gandalf's chest and he bounced limply in time with Shadowfax's gate.

"You are a most clever young woman, Leigh," Gandalf said. "I can only assume that your little game with Pippin was simply a way of getting him to nod off so we could speak in private. What have you to say? And what I would like to know is what on earth happened between you and the Steward's Son."

"Actually," Leigh said over the wind, "that was what I wanted to talk to you about. Boromir... Boromir wanted me to go to Minas Tirith with him and use my knowledge to turn the tide of the war that he knows is coming."

"The man is a greater fool than I have words to express," Gandalf fumed. Suddenly, he calmed down again and continued more peaceably. "Once again, he has fallen for a great temptation. But yet, there remains hope."

"Not that I see," Leigh sighed.

"What does your heart say of him, even now that he has done this?" Gandalf queried.

"Angry," Leigh growled.

"Betrayed?" Gandalf asked gently.

"Yeah."

Suddenly he chuckled. "Trust in fate, Leigh. There is more to come for you, that I know. Men will be foolish at times, but women have been given the gift of forgiveness."

"I feel no desire to forgive Boromir," Leigh said.

"Give it time, young one," Gandalf said. "Give it time."

A/N: At least you got to see the Witch King! Be happy! And Leigh's a smart-aleck! I hope that I have given some hope to those poor souls who have been terrified about the Boromir incident, but I make no promises! You all know me! Randomly hugs random reviewers I have become unstuck! With my 'original' story, I mean. The bugger's been floating around in my head for half a year and I haven't been able to get anything in the way of a plot down on paper! AGGGHHH! But now, I have! The plot is leaking out onto the paper quite nicely, and I have solved several major name issues. I am happy! Indeed, anyways. If it takes a bit longer to get an update up than usual, you know why: my time demands and studying mythology for my soon-to-be-book. Huzzah! Remember, I like reviews! My other fic is teetering on the brink of being put on hiatus so I can work on other things due to the lack of reviews, and it was just about to pick up again, too! REVIEW! Say 'twinkies' if you have read my rambling noteses!


	38. Up to Darkness

Disclaimer: Pops head into high-class lawyer's office Just thought you should know that I do not in anyway shape or form own the Lord of the Rings. Bye. Leaves

A/N: Now before you get yourself in a nasty huff over how short this chapter is, kindly remember that the beginning of this week (the first three or four days) was completely taken up with my birthday celebrations. We had tons of fun if you are interested. Back on topic! Anyways, so I had to write for my other fic first, and THAT is a whole fiasco, and I'm starting ANOTHER one soon (but I'm quite possibly putting the other one on the back steamer) so be glad that I got this sucker out as fast as I did. The Witch King is in it, as promised, and much more! YAY! See you soon!

Up to Darkness

"Foolish! Silly! Make haste! They mustn't think danger has passed. It hasn't. Make haste!"

And that was the only encouragement the three tired travelers received from their charming guide after the fearsome near-encounter with the Witch King and his army. Needless to say, none of them bothered answering him, but instead focused their energy on their feet and continued on after him. After walking for a little while longer, they finally came to the first stair.

The extent of their vision reached about as far as their arm span. Only Gollum's eyes that occasionally sparked to life a little ways above them could be seen clearly in the near pitch black darkness.

"Careful!" the rogue whispered. "Steps. Lots of steps. Must be careful!"

Really his warnings were not needed. While the sturdy walls on either side were a relief after the naked plain before Minas Morgul, any light they might have had to aid their ascent was blotted out by the ever rising stone. The steps themselves were perilous, like an intensified version of their troubles in Moria. Many of the stone ledges were broken or broke when one stepped on them, and those that weren't were worn dangerously smooth from wear and time. Calling the queer passage a ladder as opposed to a stair would have been more fitting. After some time Jaden and the Hobbits were literally clinging to the steps above them as they floundered on up, forcing their knees to continue bending up and down and they crawled upwards into the mountains.

Once again, just when they were sure that they could take no more climbing without a rest, Gollum's two eyes appeared again above them and he hissed, "We're up. First stair's past. Clever hobbits to climb so high, very clever hobbits. Just a few more little steps and that's all, yes."

They were all dizzy and very tired as they hauled themselves over the last stair and slumped to the ground. Now they were on a gentler slope that held no stairs but still led upwards. Moaning and groaning, they rubbed their sore legs and feet in the inky blackness. Gollum, the little devil, was not inclined to let them enjoy their break for long though.

"There's another stair still," he said. "Much longer stair. Rest when we get to the top of the next stair. Not yet."

Sam groaned out loud. "Longer, did you say?" he asked.

"Yes, yesss, longer," Gollum nodded. "But not so difficult. Hobbits have climbed the Straight Stair. Next comes the Winding Stair."

"And what after that?" Sam asked.

"We shall see," Gollum said softly. "O yes, we shall see!"

"I thought you said there was a tunnel," Sam said. "Isn't there a tunnel or something to go through?"

"O yes, there's a tunnel," said the fiendish guide. "But hobbits can rest before they try that. If they get through that, they'll be nearly at the top. Very nearly, if they get through. O yes!"

Frodo was shivering. While the climb had made him sweat with heat, there was now a chill wind blowing through the passage they sat in from the heights above the dark walls. He rose and shook himself. "Well let's go on!" he said. "This is no place to sit in."

And on they went. The passage seemed to go on forever and ever, always dark and dim, leaving them eternally wary and uncertain. Also, the nasty little breeze that had urged Frodo on mounted steadily into a sharp wind that left the unfortunates in its path freezing and chapped from its fell gusts. After a while, they had a strange feeling that the wall on their right had vanished, and they followed Gollum close to the cliff face on their left. Then, a sudden burst of molten lava from Mount Doom brightened the dim scene with a red light reflected off of the low clouds and the companions saw that there was now the same old cliff to their left that they could continue to rely on, and a deep chasm to their right that opened like a starving mouth, parched and cracked in the deadly drought of Mordor. The sky had been blotted out above them by the smoke sent forth by Sauron to aid his orcs in their siege against the mightiest city left to Men. Sharp peaks stuck up all around them, announcing that they were now very much in the mountains, they had nearly reached the dark land they had been trying to reach for so long.

Another wall finally loomed up ahead of them, and the second stair was revealed. For the second time they halted briefly, and for the second time they began to climb. The climb was long and it was deeply tiring, but the stairs were not straight-cut as they first had been, here they coiled over the face of a cliff like a snake and wound towards the peak. At one point in the climb, the stairs turned right along side the great chasm, and they could see Minas Morgul far below, glimmering like a weird glow worm along with its twisting road. They quickly turned from the view and continued to scramble up over the rough stairs and towards the summit.

They continued on up the stairway until they came at last to a final flight that opened up to another level. The scenery was roughly hewn and sharp with pointed rocks. Over the top of the jagged peaks, a thin shoulder of rock could be seen with a red light glowing at its tip; a black tower poised above the outer pass. Frodo touched Sam's shoulder and pointed it out.

"I don't like the look of that!" Sam said. "So this secret way of yours is guarded after all. As you knew all along, I suppose?"

"All ways are watched, yes," Gollum retorted. "Of course, they are. But hobbits must try some way. This may be least watched. Perhaps they've all gone away to big battle, perhaps!"

"Perhaps," Sam grunted. "Well, it still seems a long way off, and a long way up before we get there. And there's still the tunnel. I think you ought to rest now, Mr. Frodo. I don't know what time of day or night it is, but we've kept going for hours and hours."

"At least it seems like that," Jaden smirked wryly. "Who knows with these clouds?"

"Yes," Frodo sighed, "we must rest. Let us find some corner out of the wind, and gather our strength- for the last lap."

And so it felt for them all. The horrors beyond the mountains were distant and unrealistic, all that mattered for the moment was to get through the sharp and dark pass through the mountains. If they could simply finish this path, then the great task assigned them would be finished somehow. This is how it seemed to at least two of the weary wanderers as they sat against the unforgiving rock in the passes above Cirith Ungol.

The mood of the King's company was grim and hurried. Mithrandir had left them suddenly with an disturbing urgency, and with him had gone nearly a half of their good cheer; Leigh and Pippin. Now only one gloomy hobbit, Maylin and Jack remained, and who knew how long they would stay? There had been talk amongst the outsiders of leaving, and leaving soon, and this left everyone wary and uncertain of the time when they would lose even more good fighters and burden-lighteners. Despite all of Legolas's noble efforts, Maylin remained silent and grim before him on his horse, not replying to a single word he uttered. Jack was also suffering in the doldrums and he rode with his head bowed and his eyes staring blankly down at the dark path beneath his horse's feet.

They rode swiftly, and in short order they had passed the fords once again and had begun their journey on the opposite bank. For another good while they kept up their steady pace and continued to close the distance between themselves and the grey keep of Helm's Deep. No one spoke; there was no need and nothing to say. Suddenly a rider came up from the back of the line and spoke with the King.

"My lord," he said, "there are horsemen behind us. As we crossed the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They are overtaking us, riding hard."

Theoden called a halt at once and the Riders spun around and grabbed their spears. Aragorn dismounted and placed Merry on the ground as well before moving to stand by the king's stirrup with his drawn blade.

Behind the watchful eyes of the others, Maylin and Jack nodded to each other, an acknowledgment that after all the trials they had endured they still knew what was to happen next.

The moon broke out from behind a passing cloud and after a few moments a group of horsemen appeared, coming up from the fords, glinting here and there in the moonlight. While their number was not large, it was at least as large as that of the king and his Riders, and all but two in the gathering were wary and cautious.

When they had come quite close, Eomer shouted loudly, "Halt! Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"

The followers pulled their horses to a stop with the skill of great riders and there was an uneasy silence for several moments. Then a tall, dark shadow leapt off of his mount and strode towards the other company with an uplifted hand, a token of peace. All that could be seen of him was that hand, glowing white in the bleaching light of the moon, and Merry shuddered at the remembrance of Saruman and his symbol. When the man had come within ten paces he stopped and his voice rang out in the still night air.

"Rohan? Rohan did you say? That is a glad word. We seek that land in haste from long afar."

"You have found it," Eomer replied. "When you crossed the fords yonder you entered it. But it is the realm of Theoden the King. None ride here save by his leave. Who are you? And what is your haste?"

"Halbarad Dunadan, Ranger of the North I am," the man cried in answer. "We seek one Aragorn son of Arathorn, and we heard that he was in Rohan."

"And you have found him also!" Aragorn cried, handing over his reins to Merry and charging forward. The poor little hobbit sighed in relief. "Halbarad! Of all joys this is the least expected!"

For a moment the two shady figures held a quiet conversation that every youth present strained to overhear. Then Aragorn turned around and shouted.

"All is well," he said. "Here are some of my own kin from the far land where I dwelt. But why they come, and how many they be, Halbarad shall tell us."

"I have thirty with me," said the Ranger. "That is all of our kindred that could be gathered in haste; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir have ridden with us, desiring to go to war. We rode as swiftly as we might when your summons came."

"But I did not summon you," Aragorn blinked, "save only in wish. My thoughts have often turned to you, and seldom more than tonight; yet I have sent no word. But come! All such matters must wait. You find us riding in haste and danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave."

"It is well!" Theoden exclaimed. "If these kinsmen be in any way like to yourself, my lord Aragorn, thirty such knights will be a strength that cannot be counted my heads."

As one, Jack and Legolas turned their horses about and rode along with Aragorn and the Dunadan Rangers, listening silently to the fascinating conversation of the goings-on in Rivendell.

"I bring word to you from my father: _The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead._" Elrohir said gravely.

"Always my days have seemed to me too short to achieve my desire," Aragorn answered. "But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that road."

"That will soon be seen," Elrohir said. "But let us speak no more of these things upon the open road!"

"Let us speak instead of these that ride with you," Elladan spoke. "We have heard much of them from those in Rivendell, but we were not present while they dwelled in the halls of our father. There were four, were there not? Why then do I count but two?"

"Now _that_ is quite a long story," Jack sighed.

A/N: I LOVE the TWINS! Yes, the two Elves are twins, and, no, I am not making that up. They rock my socks and I have no idea why. They shall be in it much more, I promise! And Boromir hasn't dropped off the face of the earth, just in case you were wondering. Anyways! You people know the drill, review or else! Mwhahahaha! Coughs Ok, um, say 'Batmobile' if you have read these notes. Yeah... pretty obvious what the NEXT one is, eh?


	39. Line in the Sand

Disclaimer: Let me see... Tolkien is dead... his son is fairly old... and the people who bought the rights to the Lord of the Rings are also old and are very rich. I am not any of these, so I must not own the rights to the Lord of the Rings, and thus do not own it!

A/N: Alright, ya meanies! I only got THREE reviews! I can deal with that on my other fics, but on here it means that there are some folks beenin' lazy! GAH! In return, I have given you a much shorter chapter than I might have otherwise. Take that! It's fairly good though, so no worries. See you at the bottom of the page!

Line in the Sand

The weary journeyers gathered together in a small crevice in the rock that gave them some fleeting protection from the vicious wind. There were voices crying in the breeze's chilly gusts, or so it seemed to Jaden, worn and troubled as she was. Each of them called to her, screamed or wailed for her to just stop, or go back, or keep Frodo and his precious burden safe. Children's pleas resounded in her ears as they begged her to save them and turn back, the screams of tortured men and the screams of women tore through her senses as she vainly sought sleep, or at least rest.

All together, the three took what they believed might very well be their last meal, at least their last meal together. Some of the Gondorian provisions they ate and a small bit of the Elven waybread. They drank very little water, only enough to dampen their dry tongues at the end of the meal. Already water was a priceless commodity worth one's life savings, and they all knew very well that if they should make it through the rest of the pass, they would need as much of it as possible in the scorched lands that stood between them and Mount Doom. It was strange to sit their eating, knowing that this could very well be at least the last meal that they ate together, or the last meal they ate at all. Some stray, half-crazed thought slipped through Jaden's mind that many dieticians back in the old world would have leaped for joy and patted her on the back when they found that she wouldn't be eating any more. Most likely they were part of some fad diet.

Sam was looked ponderously at his water skin and suddenly voiced aloud, "I wonder when we'll find water again? But I suppose even over there they drink? Orcs drink, don't they?"

"Yes they drink," Frodo rasped. "But do not let us speak of that. Such drink is not for us."

"Then all the more need to fill our bottles," Sam said firmly, ever the sensible one. Let Mordor send its worst against them, Sam would have the entire campaign's meal plan and provisions planned out lickety-split. "But there isn't any water up here: not a sound or a trickle have I heard. And anyway Faramir said we were not to drink any water in Morgul."

"No water flowing out of Imlad Morgul were his words," Frodo replied. "We are not in that valley now, and if we came on a spring it would be flowing into it and not out of it."

"I wouldn't trust it," Sam said, "not till I was dying of thirst. There's a wicked feeling about this place." He sniffed the air. "And a smell, I fancy. Do you notice it? A queer kind of smell, stuffy. I don't like it."

"I don't like anything here at all," Frodo said, "step or stone, breath or bone. Earth, air and water all seem accursed. But so our path is laid."

Their conversation didn't last long under the oppressive wind and heavy eyelids. Soon they were all asleep, curled up against the unearthly cold and clutching to their cloaks and one another for warmth.

Jaden's mind, though, did not sleep, even when her body had collapsed in a deep slumber on the rocks above Minas Morgul. The scene that had enraged her friends and herself in the third film, of Frodo turning on his loyal and loving servant, constantly replayed through her head, like some kind of warning or repeating message on an answering machine. Maybe it was her mind that had gone and left her and now all she could think of was that one, awful scene. Jaden found that she wouldn't put anything past the darkness of this land at that point. There were so many things that she had yet to worry about, survival playing a key role in all, but why was this single event replaying itself over and over in her head? It made no sense! What did the blasted Valar want with her anyways? Hadn't she done enough? She had gone with them to the threshold of Mordor and made sure that all played out in its proper way, and so far nothing had gone wrong, even that cloud had moved aside just at the right moment to reveal the king's head, crowned with a flowering vine. What was to happen next? Why was she here? Had she abandoned her friends for nothing? Was this madness all that she could expect in return for her efforts?

Suddenly she was awoken by shuffling sounds somewhere near by. Her new survival instincts had her awake and looking for the source of the noise in a few seconds. She snapped her eyes open and there was Gollum, merely a yard or two away, fiddling with the straps on Sam's pack. Immediately, images of the foreboding scene bounced around before her eyes and Jaden felt a sick twist in her stomach.

There was only one thing to do, and even though it would utterly destroy the delicate relationship she had established with Smeagol, it had to be done for the good of all Middle-Earth.

"Smeagol," Jaden whispered.

The twisted thing's head whipped around and for a moment Jaden could see a green spark in his eyes. In that single instant, Jaden felt terribly afraid of this deformed creature, and remembered that he had killed before, and that he might not hesitate to do it again. The Ring had blotted out any goodness that might have been left in him and Jaden came to the realization that Smeagol was beyond saving, that there was now no hope that he could recover and live among the upright once again. Her only concern now must be to protect Frodo and the Ring at all costs. Smeagol could no longer be considered even a flimsy ally.

"Jaden should not be waking," Gollum cooed, having recovered his 'pleasant' mask. "Go back to sleep, some time still left."

"No, Smeagol," Jaden said firmly. "Stop what you were doing, it will serve no purpose. Even if you still steal the rest of the provisions from Sam's pack, I will personally tell Frodo what you were up to. Who do you think he'll believe, Smeagol? You or me?"

For about ten seconds Gollum simply started at her, processing the fact that not only was his plan to ditch Sam foiled, but that Jaden knew exactly what he had been up to and she had barely seen anything. Then that awful green spark flashed back into his eyes and Smeagol began hissing and spitting venomously.

"Nosey Jaden," he gurgled angrily. "Always sticking her nose where it doesn't belong! _Gollum! Gollum! _Nosey Jaden must be careful now, very careful. Jaden is friend no more! Be careful, nosey, very careful, yes precious, you never know what nasty thing might be lurking... in Mordor."

"Thank you for the warning," Jaden replied icily.

Stirred awake by the noise, Sam suddenly sat up, rubbing his fists into his eyes. "Hey you!" he said roughly to Gollum. "What are you up to?" Then she spotted Jaden sitting up as well and his words tripped over each other in embarrassment. "Oh! I'm sorry, Jay. I didn't see you awake! Look, I'm sorry, Gollum, it must have just been your talking with Jaden that woke me. I'm sorry."

"Yessss," Gollum hissed, his eyes still riveted on Jaden. "_Talking_."

The night had turned grey by the time the King's company had ridden the rest of the way to Helm's Deep. Riders and wanderers alike dismounted their weary steeds and entered the Hornburg for a bit of rest and council before they continued on their swift journey. Jack, Maylin, and Merry, sharing the same woe, commandeered a corner to themselves and curled up in hopes of sleeping until the following night. For once even Maylin was exhausted and fell asleep in a matter of minutes. They all slept like that for some hours, disturbed by neither voices nor motion, deep in their dreams.

Maylin was the first to wake, small wonder considering as how she was an Elf. As she looked about her, she saw that many of the Riders were still asleep and that there were none moving about in the large room that had been set aside for them. Glancing down, she saw Jack still slumbering soundly along with Pippin. Not wishing to wake anyone, she silently crept from the chamber and slipped out and into the fledgling sunlight.

A few birds were perched on the rough stones, oblivious to the blood that had been shed on those very rocks only a few nights ago. Bright rays of the sun caught and glittered in drops of water running down the stones and other fortifications. Evidently the Rohirrim had been busy scrubbing their keep clean of the filth of battle. Her eyes strayed out over the freshly turned soil spotted all over the plain below. One of those crude graves held Haldir's remains.

It seemed strange, as if the great battle had been ages ago instead of a few mere nights. It had taken such a mighty shock as Haldir's death to shake her from her childish crush. She had been so blinded by her thing for Haldir that she hadn't even seen the clear signs of Legolas offering his own love to her. Had Haldir truly loved her? Had his feelings been like hers: intrigued by someone so strange and foreign, and yet the same? Now she would never know, for he lied buried beneath the earth and his tongue had been stilled forever.

"Maylin? You're up much earlier than the others," Legolas said as he walked up beside her. "Is something wrong?" His eyes followed hers out over the new graveyard and he sighed heavily, as if a great weight had been placed on his shoulders just as the hope had been taken out of his heart.

"Just reminiscing," Maylin murmured.

"Thinking of all you could be doing with him now, if he had lived," Legolas corrected sadly. Then Maylin turned from the grim scene and looked straight into the Elven prince's striking blue ones.

"I just have to learn how to move on," she told him.

"Yes, you do," Legolas agreed. Without another word he turned and set off down the stairs to find Gimli.

He needn't have bothered. The Dwarf met him about halfway and barred the way with his mighty axe.

"And just where are you off to in such a hurry?" he growled.

"I was looking for you, my friend," Legolas smiled.

"Oh no you were not," Gimli retorted. "You weren't looking, you were running. And if I am not mistaken the issue you are running from is a young lady with pointy ears and a devious smile."

"Please do not press me, Gimli," Legolas sighed. "She is not ready."

"Well she might be if you helped her a bit," Gimli snorted. "She's a young lass who just lost a man that she thought she loved." Legolas's eyes turned dark and he tried to shove his way past his stout friend, but the Dwarf would have none of it. "I said _thought_, Legolas. If she had actually been meant for him do you honestly think she would have taken to you like she has?"

"What if I am not the right one for her?" Legolas asked. "I doubt she even knows what love feels like now, or would trust it if she felt it."

"That is how you are supposed to help her, laddie," Gimli said, lifting his axe and clearing the way for his comrade.

Jack awoke about an hour later to an uncomfortable prodding in his side.

"Whaaaa?" he moaned, not yet able to make full words, let alone sentances.

"Time to rise and shine, laddie," a cheerful, rough voice answered. "I need your help with a few little things, and those two new Elves have been asking to see you. So far I've been kind and let you sleep, but my kindness ends here, lad. Up you get!"

"You'll wake Pippin," Jack snorted.

"Eh, that little bugger could sleep anywhere and through anything, I'd reckon," Gimli replied. "Even if I do wake him he will doubtless be able to fall back into his slumber swiftly. However, the same cannot be said of you. Hurry, there is much that I wish to do."

"Yes, YOU wish to do," Jack agreed. "I however do not share your lofty ambitions and would be more than glad to at least try to drift off again."

"No such luck, up you get!" Gimli said with a hearty pull on the back of Jack's tunic, jerking him to his feet against all protests. "Toss on your cloak and let's go."

"You are evil," Jack glared.

However he did indeed follow the Dwarf's rough council and was up and about, fully awake in a few moments. The entire experience reminded him far too much of the old days when his mother would come in to chase him out of bed for school.

Together they trotted outside and went searching for Boromir. The moment Gimli had announced his intentions of finding the man and having a 'decent' conversation with him, Jack had tried to turn around and go back inside. At the moment the only thing he had to say to Boromir was a thing to be said with a fist. However the Dwarf was adamant about having his talk and having Jack come along with him, so in the end Jack found himself STILL tagging along after the possibly-crazed Dwarf to find a man he would rather run-through than speak with.

Boromir was found sitting on the wall, looking away towards Gondor and Minas Tirith, looking as if he could see through the very mountains and across the vast plains that separated him from his homeland.

"I guess you've turned homesick now that you don't have to focus all your efforts on Leigh," Jack snapped. Boromir ducked his head in shame and wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Take it easy, lad," Gimli advised. "Boromir, you have some talking to do."

The ride to Gondor seemed to never end. That was all there was to it: it just wouldn't stop. Shadowfax bore them first to the Golden Hall where Leigh and Pippin were allowed a short rest in a corner of the nearly abandoned shelter. Edoras had frightened Leigh this second time, for it was like a deserted ghost town, only about a dozen men did she see in her time there, and no women or children. That was the night the shadow flew over again, and both she and Pippin cowered together while Gandalf spoke comforting words to them until they were calm once again. The only dismal thought that had come to Leigh then was that she would be feeling much more of this fear in the white streets of Minas Tirith.

But that had been a while ago, the stopping at Edoras, and now it was just more of the wheeling stars, flying grass and howling wind. Shadowfax's speed was truly amazing, and the wind caused by it was a torment. Leigh's hair was constantly flipping about and swinging around to slap her in the face when she least expected it. After a while she gave up all hopes of sleep and simply resigned herself to muddled thoughts and the limited view from behind Gandalf. It was now the third night since she and Pippin had suffered the misfortune of looking into the stone, and Leigh wished that more time had passed to stand between her and that awful experience.

"Where are we, Gandalf?" Pippin asked from the front.

"In the realm of Gondor," Gandalf answered.

For a few minutes the roaring silence filled by the wind came back, and then Pippin exclaimed, "What's that? Look! Fire, red fire! Are there dragons in this land? Look, there is another!"

The other two riding behind the little Hobbit looked up and saw what had so startled him. He had spoken true, red fires were kindling on the summits of the great mountains that ran between the lands of Gondor and Rohan.

"The beacons!" Leigh exclaimed.

"On Shadowfax!" Gandalf cried. "We must hasten. Time is short. The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid. War is kindled. There they go on speeding west."

However Shadowfax slowed in his stride until he came to a slow walk. Then he lifted his head and neighed, and other neighs answered him from the darkness. Three riders blew past them, speeding towards Rohan, and then they were gone and Shadowfax sprang forward once again and the night melted and slid by all around them as the horse ran with all speed for the White City.

A/N: I am really hoping to have Leigh reach Minas Tirith in the next chapter, but I make no garuntees, to some extent it rests in the hands of the reviewers...My new fic is already doing fairly well, so I am happy. Shelob will be in the next chapter! Review if you want to see her-ugliness faster. Alright, say 'glow worm' if you have read ze notes! Thankees much! Oh yeah, please review!


	40. Sauron's Cat

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, what on earth made you think that I did?

A/N: Alright, you know who you are! This chapter WAS going to be longer, but I received VERY few reviews, so this is for all the slackers out there. To those who reviewed: excellent, thanks! Come on, folks, I get depressed when people don't review, and my muse runs off when I get depressed. Forty chapters! Wow! I've gotten to the part (NOT counting Shelob) that I've been wanting to write from the beginning, so PLEASE review.

Sauron's Cat

The sensation of being outdoors had been utterly destroyed by this point in Jaden's trip. It now felt much more like walking under a great roof of smoke and past towering walls of rock that acted as columns. Day could only be told from night by the color of the roof. If it was pitch black, then it was really night, if it was slightly lighter, then it was day. As they progressed onward, a sickly reek of decay and waste wafted through the air, growing stronger as the continued to follow their skinny guide. They ravine they were now walking through ended with a straight wall of grey rock up ahead, and it seemed that the rock was rotting and this was causing the rancid scent. Sam, fortunately, was the only one to comment on it.

At last they came under the shadow of the massive cliff and stood before the opening of a cave. Now it was painfully clear just where the smell came from. It smelled like a dragon had gone mental and had stashed all the rotten, smelly, disgusting things in the world within the dark reaches of the underground labyrinth they now faced.

"This is the way in," Gollum said softly. "This is the entrance to the tunnel."

Jade noted angrily that the nasty little bugger didn't mention it's name, which he knew very well.

"Is this the only way, Smeagol?" Frodo asked yet again.

"Yes, yes," he answered. "Yes, we must go this way now."

"D'you mean to say you've been through this hole?" Sam wheezed. "Phew! But perhaps you don't mind bad smells."

"He doesn't know what we minds, does he, precious?" Gollum sneered. "No, he doesn't. But Smeagol can bear things. Yes. He's been through. O yes, right through. It's the only way."

"And what makes the smell, I wonder," Sam said. "It's like- well, I wouldn't like to say. Some beastly hole of the Orcs, I'll warrant, with a hundred years of their filth in it."

"Well," Frodo said. "Orcs or no, if it's the only way, we must take it."

For a moment he turned to Jaden, for the first time seeking her advice. Inner turmoil raged within her then, for she certainly didn't want to go into that black, smelly hole. And yet, it was the only way that would bring them to Mount Doom in time. If they did not take this road Frodo would weaken beyond his strength, and all those before the Black Gate would die in a hopeless battle. But if they went in now, they still had a chance, things were going as they should, and Sam was still by his master's side. Grimlly and resolutely, Jaden nodded.

With one last, deep breath they headed inside the reeking cave. After only a few steps, they had been swallowed by a thick darkness which no outer light could penetrate. Only in Moria had they seen such darkness, and here it was possibly even darker. All around them in Moria there was moving air and echoes and a sense of space, but no light. Here on the other hand the air was heavy with a dead weight, hanging like some creature that had been slain in an ancient battle long ago.

It seemed now that their sense of touch had been heightened and they quickly felt the walls against their fingertips. Unlike the passages they had traversed thus far, here the walls were uncannily smooth, and Jaden could not repress her shudder at the thought of Shelob's fat bulk slipping through these tunnels and working them into this fine finish. The ground was also very smooth, and Jaden was deeply grateful to be wearing boots. Only an occasional step broke the straight ascent up. Sam and Frodo walked on either side of Jaden, touching the walls for guidance, with Jaden in the middle to keep them connected.

For a while they were conscious of Gollum going on before them, hearing his hissing and gasping breaths, but after more time had passed their senses became dulled, even their sense of touch, so they simply continued to grope ahead into the darkness. Only their force of will kept them moving along their path and the bright hope for the brilliant light at the end of the tunnel that would announce that they were finally through.

Sam soon, or perhaps it wasn't soon, all sense of time was gone, found that there was more than one tunnel, for he lost contact with the wall and felt moving, fresher air blow against his cheek for a few paces and then it was gone again.

"There's more than one passage here," he gasped out, finding it difficult to speak. "It's as orc-like a place as ever there could be!"

After that they passed several more such openings that gaped along their own path. Luckily for them there was no doubt about which path was the main route, for the tunnel they were walking through was straight as an arrow and kept on going up. However the air was getting worse, it was almost like the air was leaving and leaving nothing but foul scents and poisonous gasses in its wake. What was even worse was the sense that there was some other unseen oppression besides the mere air. It was like a dark and malicious will was forcing down their own in an attempt to stop them from climbing higher into the tunnel.

Frodo was on the left hand wall, and suddenly he came to a void. He nearly fell into it, but Jaden's firm grip prevented him from tumbling. Here was an opening in the rock wider than all the others they had passed and from it came the reek as well as that foreboding of lurking malice. The sensations were so intense that all three then fell to the ground.

Fighting off the sickness and fear, Frodo reached out and found Sam's hand and Jaden's. "Up!" he said in a breathless, hoarse voice. "It all comes from here, the stench and the peril. Now for it! Quick!"

Calling up his new found strength he half-dragged his two companions forward and forced his own limbs to move. Suddenly it was like they had broken free from a fisherman's line and they found they could move again and breath. They struggled on, still hand in hand with one another.

But then they came to a new difficulty. The tunnel seemed to fork, and in the pitch blackness they couldn't tell which was the broader or kept the straightest. They had nothing to guide them and a wrong choice would most certainly be fatal.

"Which way has Gollum gone?" Sam panted. "And why didn't he wait?"

"Smeagol!" Frodo tried to call. "Smeagol!" But his voice cracked and the name fell dead almost as it left his lips. There was neither answer no echo.

"He is Smeagol no longer, Frodo," Jaden wheezed.

"He's really gone this time, I fancy," Sam muttered. "I guess this is just exactly where he meant to bring us. Gollum! If ever I lay hands on you again, you'll be sorry for it!"

They then found that the passage on the left was blocked by a great stone, and that they really had but one choice of routes. "This cannot be the way," Frodo whispered. "Right or wrong, we must take the other."

"And quick!" Sam added. "There's something worse than Gollum about. I can feel something looking at us."

When they had gone only a few yards they heard a sound from behind them, startling and horrible in the heavy silence. It gurgled and bubbled and gave out a long, venomous hiss.

"It's a trap!" Sam cried as he reached for the hilt of his sword.

Jaden had always considered herself patient, but as she waited for Sam's cry to Frodo to use the light, she began to realise that it wasn't coming. Evidently Galadriel or whoever or whatever it was that sent the vision to Sam had decided that Jaden's presence to remind them of the necessary details was enough.

"Frodo!" Jaden cried as the bubbling noise drew nearer. "The Lady's gift! The star-glass! Galadriel's Phial! A light in dark places she said it was to be. I think this qualifies!"

"The star-glass?" Frodo muttered to himself. "Why yes! Why had I forgotten it? _A light when all other lights go out!_ And now indeed light alone can help us!"

Wasting no further time, he took out the glass container. As he held it aloft, for a few moments it glowed only faintly and then, as his hope grew, so did the light sent out by the phial. It kindled into a silver flame that burned as brightly as the star of Earendil itself, as if the man of old had left the high paths above and come into that dark cave bearing the last of the Silmarils upon his brow. All around, the darkness withdrew quickly from the radiant light and crept into the far corners and crevices of the rock.

Frodo gazed at the sparkling light in wonder. Long he had born this marvelous gift and had not known its true worth. "_Aiya Earendil Elenion Ancalima!_" he cried out. But he did not know what he had said, for it was like another's voice had spoken through him.

But the Phial of Galadriel and the words cried by Frodo were not the only great and ancient powers in that tunnel. She who listened had heard that same cry in ages long past, and it bothered her as little now as it did then. Gradually, two clumps of multi-faceted eyes were revealed by the white light of the star-glass, bestial and yet filled with purposed and hideous delight. A dark fire was kindled in their depths in polar opposition of the white flames in the glass held by the hobbit. The eyes considered them now; watched its prey in delight, trapped beyond all hope of escape. Jaden shuddered at the sight of those abominable eyes that started at them so heatedly.

Frodo, Sam and Jaden began to slowly back away in horror even as their own gazes were held by the horrible stare of those dreadful eyes. However, even as they backed up, the eyes advanced. After a moment the hypnotic, freezing stare was relaxed and the three were released to stumble back frantically away from the eyes. But they eyes simply matched their pace. They turned and fled for the amusement of those terrible eyes and Frodo turned to see the eyes advancing and the smelt the stench of death coming towards them like a breaker towards the shore.

"Stand! Stand!" he cried desperately. "Running is no use."

The eyes drew nearer.

"Galadriel!" Frodo shouted. And then, in madness, folly, desperation or courage, he strode back down the tunnel to meet those vicious eyes that hunted them. His left hand now clutched the glowing phial, and in his right was clasped Sting, shining with a blue fire around the edge of its blade. If ever there was a single scene of bravery and heroism, it was the sight of that lone hobbit, clad in tattered and worn clothing, bearing no armor, but striding forward to whatever doom was allotted him. Had the simple folk back in his home seen him at that moment, perhaps they would have learned to appreciate just what the word 'hero' means. And Jaden, as she watched, was unconscious of the tear sliding down her cheek.

The eyes wavered. As the light approached doubt clouded them and one by one they dimmed and drew back. For centuries the dark and frightening pass had protected it from the deadly light of the sun and moon. But now it was as if a star had shot down into its abode, and it was afraid. The last of the eyes went dark and a great bulk just beyond the light's reach rolled about and vanished with the eyes. They were gone.

"Master, master!" Sam cried joyfully, charging in from behind with his own sword drawn. "Stars and glory! But the Elves would make a song of that, if ever they heard of it! And may I live to tell them and hear them sing. But now's our only chance. Now let's get out of this foul hole!"

Together they turned again and began walking up the steep incline. But soon they were running, for it seemed that the farther they got from the lair the cleaner and more plentiful the air was and their limbs were free to move again. As they hurtled onwards air came down from the yet unseen opening somewhere ahead of them and they dashed on, feverish to be free of the confining tunnel and in the free air. But as they ran on, they were suddenly bounced back by some unseen force. It was no rock, for air still passed through it, yet no light came through and it held against their weight.

Raising the Phial once more, Frodo revealed the impediment as a gigantic web that had been woven densely of threads as thick as a rope.

Sam laughed grimly. "Cobwebs!" he cried. "Is that all? Cobwebs! But what a spider! Have at 'em, down with 'em!"

Furiously he hacked at them with his little sword, but to no avail. The threads held. They bounced only like a plucked harp string. Desperately, he continued his mad assault until a single thread snapped loose and whipped into his hand. With a yelp he held the injured appendage to his mouth.

"It will take days to clear the road like this," he said. "What's to be done? Have those eyes come back?"

"No, not to be seen," Frodo replied, checking behind them. "But I still feel that they are looking at me, or thinking about me: making some other plan, perhaps. If this light were lowered, or if it failed, they would quickly come again."

"Trapped in the end!" Sam said bitterly. "Gnats in a net. May the curse of Faramir bite that Gollum and bite him quick!"

"That would not help us now," Frodo replied. "Come! Let us see what Sting can do. It is an elven-blade. There were webs of horror in the dark ravines of Beleriand where it was forged. But you must be the guards and hold back the eyes. Here, take the star-glass. Hold it up and watch!" With that he carefully handed the precious thing to Jaden while Sam held his blade out before him defensively.

Frodo stepped up tot he great grey net and hewed it with a wide, sweeping stroke. The blade went through the thick strands like a scythe through grass. At last a great tear was made large enough for all of them to pass through.

"Come!" Frodo cried. "On! On!" Wild joy at their escape from the eaves of death filled his mind with crazed gaiety. His head spun as if from a strong wine and he sprang out, shouting as he went.

Suddenly, as they went through the tear, they could see the dull grey of evening in Mordor. While to any other the sight would have been far from heartening, for those who had just passed through the very den of night itself, it was a marvelous wonder to behold.

"The pass, Sam!" Frodo shouted, caring nothing for the loudness of his voice. "The pass! Run, run, and we'll be through- through before any one can stop us!"

Sam and Jaden did indeed follow, but while they were also glad to be free, they were wary, for Sam sensed something coming after them, and Jaden already knew just what that something was. Too little did the hobbits know of Shelob. There was more than one exit from her lair. Poor Sam knew nothing of the great evil that had been stirred against them, but Jaden shuddered even as she ran at the remembrance of horror stories told to her by her friends on dark nights. All Sam knew was that a fear was turning his feet to lead weights. If he had known from the first what was to come crawling from those holes in the walls, he might very well have never left his home.

In one of his more foolish moves in their quest, Sam tucked the star-glass away in his pocket.

Then a great spider spilled out of one of the holes just ahead of Sam and Jaden.

A/N: I borrowed a LOT from Tolkien in this chapter, but the original stuff picks up again in the other chapters. I want to start working on my 'original' story, so please review and give me something to work for! Say 'arachniphobe' if you have read my author's notes, please.


	41. The Dark

Disclaimer: I own two parakeets, many books, an older brother, a dog, three glass goblets, and a canopy bed that doesn't currently have the canopy up, but I do not own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY, MY FELLOW AMERICANS!I REALLY wanted this one to be longer, but, alas! it is not. Really this is due to celebrations with my family (give you three guesses what). If you are interested, I had great fun choking on smoke and throwing down those little things that pop when they hit the ground, I forget what they're called. Oh well! In my original plan, Leigh was going to get to Minas Tirith in this chapter, but that didn't end up happening, sorry. Enjoy, though! You shall all shoot me at the end!

The Dark

Shelob was an ancient being, and long years of lurking in her tunnel and feeding off of the helpless victims that Sauron sent to her had helped her grow large and heavy. One of the queerest things that Jaden noted about her was the lack of an exoskeleton. While her back and bony legs were a threatening midnight black with splotches of sickly grey, her white stomach glowed almost and as it swung back and forth it released the horrid stench the three had smelt earlier. The black legs of her body rose high above her bloated body that sagged down between them, and from each joint sprouted stiff hairs like so many spikes. Even the tips of each of her eight legs were armed with a claw. The self same eyes that had glittered so evilly in the blackness of the tunnel were now staring with the same evil light once again, and they were bent on one single target: Frodo.

When she saw the massive spider come crawling out of her hole and dash down between Frodo and herself, Jaden made a bold decision. There was no need for the pain inflicted by Shelob, and she would do everything in her power to stop it. Nothing would be ruined by her stopping this set of events, and they were through the tunnel, so it wouldn't matter if they knew about Shelob's sting being little better than a tranquilizer dart. Now was her time to act.

"Look out behind!" Sam yelled to his master desperately. "Look out, master! I'm-" And then his cry was cut off by Gollum's arm wrapped around his neck.

"Got him!" Gollum hissed in the hobbit's ear. "At last, my precious, we've got him, yes, the nassty hobbit. We takes this one. She'll get the others. O yes, Shelob will get the, not Smeagol: he promised; he won't hurt Master at all. But he's got you, you nassty filthy little sneak!"

"Bug off, Gollum!" Jaden shouted, pouncing on him and jerking at strands of his scant hair with one hand while she used the other to dig her nails into the knuckles of the hand over Sam's mouth.

Angrily, Gollum tossed aside the hobbit and turned on Jaden, entwining himself around her almost instantly. The dusty rocks swam in her vision as the wiry fiend's arm tighten around her windpipe. Then she heard a nasty little sing-song being hissed in her ear.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt;

Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.

It lies behind stars and under hills;

And empty holes it fills.

It comes first and follows after;

Ends life, kills laughter.

Can you guess this one, Jaden? It'ssss the dark, precious, the dark."

Sam got up and whipped around with the frenzy of one who's loved ones are threatened, and one who has been betrayed. Even Gollum wasn't anticipating the speed with which the hobbit moved. In a few moments he had pried Gollum's hands from Jaden's neck by sheer brutality and was engaged in fighting off the malicious little bugger.

Knowing that Sam could and would handle himself just fine against the wily Gollum, Jaden charged forward with the long knife Galadriel had given her drawn and at the ready. Her chain mail, the first gift the Lady had given her, might finally serve some use after all of the discomfort it had caused.

Frodo was just now noticing the cruel beast that was skittering after him, but he could not outrun it, for eight legs are faster than two, even when they are carrying a burden as heavy as Shelob's mass. Even as he ran, he tripped and fell while looking back at the monster chasing up behind him. Sting clattered away on impact, and he dimly thought he felt something fall over his head, but he was to frantic to bother, his only care being Shelob as she swayed and scurried towards him rapidly.

Then the monster was upon him, and she swung her stinger towards him. Being forewarned, Frodo leapt aside and dodged the deadly instrument only to be smashed into the wall by Shelob's swinging bulk. His torso felt like it was being pressed by a great millstone, but the stone did not break through his defenses, and all he suffered there were a few bruises. The rocks, however, connected sharply with his skull and the little hobbit slumped to the ground in a daze, still fuzzily aware of his danger, and yet unable to act. Shelob took her time revolving so that her stinger was once again poised for a final blow.

As Frodo was hurled into the wall of the cave, Jaden ground her teeth, insisting to herself that the mithril vest would have been sufficient to protect her small friend from being utterly crushed by the massive spider's uncouth and baggy body. That would be just wonderful if the chain mail didn't protect him. She could just see the fictitious headline in her head now: Ringbearer slain by giant spider's swinging, smelly guts. Lovely. But her feet did not falter even as her mind reeled and pleaded with her to be sensible. Shelob was now bending over a stunned Frodo and Jaden closed the remaining distance with a flying leap that sent her knife plunging into the creature's bulging side. True, no strength of Jaden's could deal Shelob a mortal wound thanks to layers of skin built up over the centuries, but that wasn't about to stop her from trying. Since she had arrived, she had added people to her buddy list, and Frodo was on it. No one messed with her buddies, at least not in the fatal sense.

Shelob turned to investigate the cause of the scratch and glared at the girl stabbing her side over and over again in a wild frenzy. Almost idly, she swung a clawed leg at her attacker, but Jaden was swift in her insanity and rolled away from the danger. Now Shelob was slightly more interested. This new prey was larger than the first, and the thing she had nearly smashed was too out of it to be any real threat. Her focus was now fixed on this new, flighty little thing, and her stinger was out and ready for her prey's flesh.

With a bounding leap, Jaden shot in and stabbed one of the spider's plentiful eyes which began to ooze out black blood and bits of the soft tissues of the organ. For a moment, Jaden's crazed bravado and fighting sense fled her as she watched the grisly concoction coming running and dripping out of the monster's eye and dribble onto the stone floor. Shelob, recovering quickly from her painful wound, swung around and drove her stinger straight at the girl and smashed it into her stomach.

Stars and other twinkling lights popped into Jaden's vision for a moment as the weapon crashed into her. Gasping, she slumped to the floor and clutched at her aching stomach, wondering how long she had until she lost consciousness and if the nasty thing would have run right through her if she wasn't wearing chain mail... Chain mail! Then it hit her. If she had been pricked, she would have gone out nearly instantly, and she wouldn't be clutching herself now. For a moment, Jaden just tried sending a mental message of thanks to Galadriel, far off in Lothlorien for her wonderful gift. Who cared if it wasn't mithril? It had done the job just wonderfully!

In all of her days hunting and killing, Shelob had never seen one of the creatures she had stuck clamber back to their feet before. But, now, that was just what this tough and relentless thing she was after was doing. Once the shock had faded from her clustered eyes, the old spark of red rage flared back to furious life in them and she ran straight at Jaden and head-butted her across the tunnel.

The next thing Jaden was aware of after being sent fly down the passsage was the sight of Sam's fuzzy feet leaping over her head and seeing him go running towards the scuttling monster that was presently torn between carrying on its attack of Jaden and finishing the job on Frodo who was just barely starting to come out of his daze. In the end it was neither of them that claimed her attention, but rather Sam as he came darting in and chopped off one of the claws from the edges of her feet and ducked to get beneath her quivering and stinking belly to inflict more damage.

Groaning, Jaden turned over on her side and tried to focus on her surroundings again. Something glinted just in front of her, and Jaden's senses were jerked back to reality. It was the One Ring, lying only a few feet away... and on the edge of a slim but deep crack that ran into the stone floor. Apparently it must have gotten caught on her clothing or one of Shelob's spikes as she threw her across the room and it had landed so close to doom. Once again, the gold band caught the dim light from the cave's exit as it teetered there precariously. Scrambling madly, Jaden clutched at it and managed to grab the chain before it fell into the narrow slit in the floor and feverishly pulled the precious thing away from the crack that nearly lost it once more for centuries.

"That was close," the teenager sighed.

As her hand closed around the Ring, she felt for a moment what Frodo felt everyday as the thing hung around his neck and rubbed against his bare skin. It was far heavier than she would have expected, and yet that was not what was most troubling. Images sailed through her head in rapid succession of her coming to her friends' rescue and ripping down the dead white walls of Minas Morgul by the hands of a great army under her command. Swiftly, she let go of the band itself and clutched only the chain, watching it dangle back and forth in front of her face. And thus did Jaden Frost, warrior and comrade, become a Ringbearer.

Shaking her head, Jaden glared at the Ring and then ran towards Sam and the raging battle between Shelob and himself. Just as she arrived he plunged Sting up into Shelob's vital organs as she tried to squash him beneath her reeking bulk. In a frantic convulsion, she leapt up into the air wildly and twitched and jerked once she had gotten clear of the nasty little stinger. However the spider recovered swiftly once again, and stared at the stumbling hobbit with a glare that could melt solid rock, the fact that she had eight, wait, six eyes probably helped in that area.

Sam's floundering gaze rested on his master's face. After the recovery time Jaden and Sam had provided him with, Frodo was now rising shakily to his feet, but the stinger hadn't stabbed him, and perhaps he still had some fight left within his small frame that had been ravaged by hunger and fear for so long. But then Sam looked at the monster who was now crouched only a few paces away from him, and he saw his death in her eyes. It was in that dark moment that he remembered the Phial of Galadriel, and he quickly brought it out in his small hand and raised it up above his head like the light atop a watch tower or a light house.

In his mind, Sam cried out for the Lady, and the strange Elven magic worked its powers on him as they had on Frodo when he had held aloft the precious light. And then how the Phial glowed and beamed in that foul tunnel, brighter even than when the Ringbearer had wielded it at first against Shelob.

Sensing her demise, Shelob shuffled back from the light, agony bursting in through her senses as the star light spread through her like acid and burned her entire head through her eyes. Her defeat was eminent.

Unable to resist the urge to shout in victory, Jaden pumped her fist in the air and crowed. This gleeful motion, however, was not lost on Shelob, and she swiftly devised a wicked plot to inflict one last wound on her enemies before she fled at last from the light. Jaden was positioned so that Shelob stood for the most part between herself and the light, which is never a very good place to be in such situations. Without warning, Shelob dashed backwards, altering her route and knocking Jaden flat on her back. Then, before Frodo and Sam could do more than cry out in alarm, Shelob's stinger sank into Jaden's unprotected leg and released its venom.

Screaming with unbridled rage, Sam rushed madly at the gigantic spider and swung the light towards her face, but Shelob knew in her twisted spirit that there was no more she could do, and she had retreated back to her well fortified cave, losing only a few more claws to Samwise Gamgee's frenzied attack.

Frodo swiftly moved to Jaden's side and knelt down by her head, smoothing her strange hair from her face as all color began to drain away. Tears welled up in both of their eyes as Jaden coughed and wheezed as she fought for breath to speak.

"Oh Jaden, Jaden!" Frodo wailed.

"The stinger," Jaden rasped from bloodless lips, "it's not... not what you think... not..." But the poison worked its evil on her before she could finish the urgent message.

As Frodo stared in silent mourning at Jaden's still and white form, Sam came tottering over, crying and blubbering nearly incoherently.

"She didn't do nothing, Mr. Frodo," he sobbed. "She was just... she was just a friend. And she was... she was so _good_ and _sweet_. Why... why did she have to go like this? It's not fittin'! Not fitting at all! And not fair! She should... she should have a hero's funeral, or better yet, no funeral at all. She's one of those that should sail away forever... Oh, Mr. Frodo, it's not right!"

"I know, Sam," Frodo said softly. "I know." A single tear rolled down his grimy cheeks.

Sam fell to the ground and took Jaden's hand rocking back and forth on his knees as he cried for his lost friend. There she lied; her eyes staring sightlessly and wide up at the ceiling as her mouth was frozen open in a valiant effort to tell her dear friends what they so desperately needed to know, but she would never be able to finish. Her clothes were stained from weeks of travel and there was a large smear on the front of her shirt of the poison and blood that had leaked from Shelob's eye when she pierced it. She had lived through so much, and now her body would be left in a reeking cave that was most likely visited by orcs regularly, in clothing that would have made an Uruk cringe. Life's irony was not kind.

It was cold. Her rear was starting to hurt from days, or rather nights, of riding. By now she really wanted some real food. And last but by no means least, the great idiots guarding the way were beginning to seriously annoy her.

"Yea truly," the leader of the imbeciles said, "we know you , Mithrandir, and you know the passwords of the Seven Gates and are free to go forward. But we do not know your companions. A woman is most strange company for one like yourself. And the other, what is he? A dwarf out of the mountains in the North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless they be mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust."

"I will vouch for them before the seat of Denethor," Gandalf replied, a bit tartly. Evidently Leigh wasn't the only one getting a wee bit annoyed. "And as for valor, that cannot be compared by stature. The young lady and the lad have passed through more battles and perils than you have, Ingold. They come now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear tidings, and great weariness is on Peregrin, or I would wake him. But I swear to you that he is a very valiant man."

"Man!" Pippin cried, waking fully from his hazy slumber. "Man! Indeed not! I am a hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and again by necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!"

"Many a doer of great deeds might say no more," Ingold said.

After a great deal more talking and discussing and ordering, the man finally let them pass by, even though Leigh was quite sure the jerk was intending to all along and he had held them simply to satiate his endless curiosity. It was her observation and opinion that while men may be the ones to gripe about women wasting so much time with words, they had plenty to spout themselves, and usually at the most inconvenient times. At least women usually knew when it was best to sit down and shut up, or at least knew when a threat demanded attention through action as opposed to words. Of course, there were many exceptions to the rules, and the amount of words a person could and would spit out per minute usually depended to a great extent on their personality and mental capabilities.

But soon other thoughts dominated her thoughts, as she realised that they were now very close to the White City. A sense of threatening foreboding had fallen on her, and she feared that all was not well. She had defied fate and saved the life of one who's time it was to die, and now she must face the consequences of that choice, and possibly repay the blood that she had withheld.

A/N: (Hides from angery reviewers) Umm... just say 'snap', alright? Alright.


	42. Splintered

Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings, duh, but you don't have to be so mean about it!

A/N: 'Ello! I SAW PIRATES 2! HUZZZAH! Go and see it, I cannot give you spoilers, for that would be a sin. Just see it, it's worth the trip! Anyways! Yes, Prophecy, ah-hem. Here be another chapter for ye, me hearties, enjoy! Oh, and one last thing: I am now looking for a beta reader since this has been suggested to me by a reviewer. If you would like to read my updates before anyone else, step right up!

Splintered

As soon as Gimli had dismissed him, Jack headed out to find Maylin in the growing sunlight. Many more were awake now than when he had first been forced awake so roughly by Gimli, and Jack found himself having a few problems even finding his friend among all the moving bodies that were creeping out onto the wall. After several minutes of searching, he found her sitting on the wall and observing the grey men of the North who were milling around somberly in the yard below.

"What do you think of them, Jack?" she asked him without taking her eyes away from the view.

"Well," Jack said as he took a seat next to her, "I think that they are very noble, etc. But I do feel slightly intimidated by them, if you know what I mean."

"Actually I do," Maylin snorted. "It's unnerving. They're the good guys and we're edgy around them."

"I think I just figured it out," Jack said to himself.

After a moment of patient waiting, Maylin turned towards him with a cocked head and demanded, "Mind sharing?"

"Maybe," he winked. "So far we haven't met anyone that we don't know loads about, excepting a few sideline characters that don't matter that much. But now we have a whole race of mysterious people who put people on edge anyways just milling around and looking dangerous."

"Have you seen Aragorn around?" Maylin asked suddenly. Jack blinked at her for a moment and then simply pointed up towards the hulking tower where the ranger had locked himself away with his new toy. "Oh yeah."

"Why?" Jack asked.

"I just need someone to talk to," Maylin sighed, running her fingers back through her annoyingly perfect hair.

"What am I, chopped liver?"

"Sorry, Jack."

"Apology accepted."

"I just feel like I can spill my guts to him," Maylin explained.

"And why can't you spill 'em to me?" Jack frowned, looking falsely angry.

"Because you aren't as wise as he is," Maylin grinned cheekily.

"Am I to understand that you trust him more than me?"

"No, I didn't say that..."

"But it was implied!"

"Jack..."

"All we've been through and one of my dearest friends cannot even tell me what's bothering her! Woe is me!"

"Jack, you're making a scene..."

"Oh! So now you're embarrassed by me!"

"Jack..."

"Woe is me!"

"Jack!"

"What?"

"Shut-up!" Maylin shouted, catching the gaze of several passing soldiers. "Thrice-blasted minstrel-loving nerd, you've already got the knack of annoying people."

"Thank you greatly, my lady," Jack grinned as he swept into a very deep and very comical bow.

With a cry of rage, laughter, and frustration, Maylin pounced forward and collided with the unforgiving stone wall as Jack dodged to the side.

"Missed me," Jack hooted.

Of course that only served to fuel Maylin's aggravation and before Jack realised his peril, he was running like a jack rabbit from one very angry college student. Up and around towers and turrets they raced, dashing in and out of the keep in a frantic game of tag. Shortly after the game had begun, Jack found that he was no longer laughing, but needed every breath of air available to him to keep going. He was swiftly learning the lesson that all men learn as they grow up: the angrier they get, the more danger the closest man present is in. Except that his lesson had a nasty twist: he had just ticked off an _elf_, and while their beauty surpassed that of mortals, so did their fury. The fact that she was also a good bit taller than he was helped her case tremendously.

Up ahead of her, Maylin saw Jack skid to a sudden halt, and she felt a surge of joy as she realised that she had triumphed. She barreled forward and nearly slammed into Jack's stationary form before she saw that there were others standing by him, clearly speaking with him. This time it was her turn to try and stomp on the brakes, unfortunately, she was not quite so lucky as Jack and went careening into the wall.

"Gyah!" _Thud. Foomp._

"Oi! Maylin!" Jack yelped, shooting over to her side on the ground. "Are you alright?"

"I'll live," she muttered as she crawled up the wall and onto her feet. Then she turned and saw Elladan, one of Elrond's sons, standing just around the corner with a playful smile, clearly enjoying himself. "Or not."

"While I am sorry to cut short your fun, I have been seeking you both for some time this morning," the Elf said in a light, musical voice. "My brother and I have much that we wish to speak with you about."

Both of the young people hung their heads in humiliation and trudged after their new guide. After only a few turns they came out into the courtyard where most of the Dunadan were waiting around quietly with their grey cloaks and grim faces. Death and wars had been their lot for generations, and the wounds of their fathers had left scars on their children.The brilliant sunlight didn't seem to touch them as they sat beneath their hoods and studied their weapons, they were forever frozen in some unending winter, that would only be killed by the blossoming of a barren tree.

Out of this morbid company strode an almost exact replica of the elf that had guided Maylin and Jack to this place. Their hair, eyes, even their clothes were the same, the only difference was that Elrohir, the new elf, had a slightly more angular face, while Elladan's seemed slightly softer in comparison. But even this difference was slight and Jack was suddenly worried about keeping the two brothers strait in the future. Hopefully he would learn to tell them apart as he had other twins he had known in his lifetime, but the rules of his world didn't always apply to Middle-Earth, and he had a sinister hunch that these two were not as solemn as they looked.

"Greetings," Elrohir called as he approached. "I'm sure you already know my name."

"Yes," Jack nodded.

"Please forgive our bluntness," Elladan spoke up, "but we are still waiting for a further explanation concerning the other two of your number. Where are they? Do they still live?"

"To the extent of our knowledge," Jack sighed, slumping down against the wall.

"Jaden left with the Ringbearer," Maylin said quietly. "We have not seen her since Amon Henn."

"And the big, bad Boromir chased off Leigh," Jack glowered at his imagined enemy.

"Please explain," Elrohir frowned, gracefully floating down to sit cross-legged in front of Jack.

Maylin sat down as well with Elladan and said, "Boromir wanted for her to go to Gondor with him, to use her powers. Obviously, she said a flat 'no' and got into a tiff. When she was running around blind she accidently fell over our little friend Pippin and touched the Palantir. Gandalf took her and Pippin with him to Minas Tirith. So in a way Boromir got what he wanted, except that he's not with her."

"These are dark tidings," Elladan frowned as he looked to his brother. "Much has already been told to us of you in Rivendell, where our father holds all four of you in high esteem, but it seems now that your paths go down different roads, and the Four have been splintered."

"I'm afraid so," Maylin replied grimly. "It is a great pity that the others are not here to meet you, I know they would have been happy to make your acquaintances."

"Do not be so morbid, lady Maylin," Elrohir smiled. "There is time left to us, I think. A chance still remains for us to meet the other members of your company beneath sun or star."

"Unless, perhaps, you know something that we do not," Elladan grinned.

"Jack," Maylin said, turning to look her remaining comrade straight in the eye. "I think when we got rid of Leigh we got twice the trouble in return."

"It is true," Elrohir laughed. "Our time among Men has changed us, hopefully for the better."

"There is time for tears and frightening words," Elladan explained. "But they would do no one any good at present, I think. This is a time for the spirit to be lifted by joy and not burdened by sorrows."

"Maylin," Jack said with a sly grin, "I think I'm going to like these people."

The morning passed by lazily, filled with conversation with Elladan and Elrohir. Neither Gimli nor Legolas was spotted by either of the remaining Four, and while Jack was deeply grateful that the Dwarf didn't press gang him into serving as his lacky again, Maylin was worried and anxious about Legolas's absence. Worried enough, evidently for the other two elves present to pick up on her concern. Between what she said herself concerning the blonde prince and little bits Jack threw in with a few winks, they put together the pieces of the puzzle faster than Maylin had. They supped together heartily, knowing that this would be one of the last nice meals they had for quite some time.

Jack had swiftly won over both the two elves and the Rangers, playing a short bit on his harp at their insistence and blushing like the boy he was when they praised his abilities. Tales of ancient valor and courage were exchanged to myths and legends of Arthur, Merlin and Odysseus. The sun warmed the faces of the icy Dunadan at long length and they cheered and laughed as Jack recounted the endless training torments Glorfinel had forced them through in their early days on Middle-Earth. It was strange. These two groups had been raised worlds apart and had thus far lived different lives, and yet a single thing in common built a sturdy bridge of friendship by the time the morning was out.

The word came down from the keep that the hour to depart drew near and everyone scurried off to attend to their mounts and gear. Jack and Maylin set out to find their respective rides and wound up back at the gate, tapping their feet while everyone else mounted up. Soon, Merry came bounding out at the King's heals like a bouncing puppy, charging over to the adorable little pony outfitted for him.

"Lucky," Maylin elbowed him as he gawked and stroked Stybba, the pony. "You get your own magnificent steed."

"It sure beats playing 'saddlebag'," he said in an awed voice. Maylin couldn't resist laughing.

"Enjoy him while you can, Merry, the ride won't last forever."

"Oh, I will!"

Aragorn then appeared out of the keep along with the sons of Elrond who had vanished a little earlier, two of his kinsmen, Legolas and Gimli. All of the joy Jack and Maylin had been storing up inside went out with a 'whoosh' as they saw the strange aging that had come over Aragorn in the short time he had been away. It is was shocking and heartbreaking at the same time to see the way age had crept into his eyes and face. Evidently his battle with Sauron had been rough. Not ignoring, but not speaking to Maylin and Jack, he passed them by and went straight to the King's stirrup. What council was held there the friends knew well even if they could not hear all of it properly. Yet another rip was being made in the tightly woven fabric of friends. Even now Theoden was being told that this brave man from the North was to seek the Paths of the Dead along with his kin, and Eomer didn't miss a beat.

"Alas! Aragorn my friend!" Eomer wailed. "I had hoped that we should ride to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our parting is come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the Sun."

""That road I will take, nonetheless," Aragorn replied. "But I say to you, Eomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor should stand between."

"You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn," Theoden said as he tightened the rein on his horse. "IT is your doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare not. This parting grieves me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the mountain-roads and delay no longer."

"A moment more, my lord, I pray," Aragorn cut in swiftly. "Merry rides now in your company; there are two others I would wish to share the same road."

"If _we_ are those two _others_, sir, you are wasting your breath," Maylin said, coming up silently behind the future king. "My place is with you, and you know very well that I understand what lies ahead completely."

"Maylin, please," Aragorn said in almost begging tone. "This is not a safe path."

"No, duh," Jack snorted. "We thought that a place called the Paths of the _Dead_ was a cake walk."

"You at least will go, Jack."

"Pardon me?"

"You are far younger than lady Maylin, and I, as the leader of our company, have your safety as my responsibility," Aragorn told him. "Maylin is old enough to take her own path, no matter how foolish it may be, but over you I have power yet."

"Maylin!" Jack squealed.

"I can't leave... him, Jack," she whispered. "You know I can't."

"You can't leave me, either!"

"If you want to get technical, you're the one leaving me," Maylin pointed out.

"Enough," Aragorn said. "Jack, there is a horse waiting for you, the time has come to depart."

For a minute Jack just stood there staring at the roughly bearded man. Then he wheeled around and dashed to his mount, swinging up and pointedly looking away from his former companions as Eomer shouted the call to leave. Never before had Jack felt so abandoned.

Maylin watched from the sidelines, sickening with fear and grief at the loss of her last friend. Now he would undoubtedly find some way onto the Pelennor, and she would come up the river by ship to meet him there. May the Valar be with him. As the horses turned around in circles to get out of the way of other riders, Eomer, to Maylin's great shock, rode over and bent low over his horse.

"Fear nor, I will keep an eye on him for you," he vowed, "and for Leigh. May our paths meet at the White City!" And then he was gone again in the rush and crush of galloping horses and men and soon the whole motley crew was gone over the rolling plains of Rohan.

"There go four that I love," Aragorn sighed, "and the smallest not the least. He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would go on."

"A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk," Halbarad said.

"And the lads of the World Apart," Gimli rumbled. Maylin glanced his way just in time to see him swipe away a little, trickling tear with his heavy glove.

"There goes the last of mine," Maylin sighed as she stared off after the cloud of dust conjured by the horses' hooves. "My kin have passed away from me into the shadow."

A slender and gentle arm slipped around her shoulders and Legolas's clear, sweet voice said, "This too shall pass. We will see not only Jack again, but Leigh and Jaden as well. Together, we shall turn and face the sun of a new day. Hold to the light. It is the one thing that the darkness fears."

The rich and fertile fields of Gondor were blowing past as Leigh clung to Gandalf on Shadowfax's back. At one time this land had been as fair as the Elven homes, but now there was a subtle mark on every blade of green grass and every bright leaf. Sorrow and despair had written its name here and taken up residence as the spirit that dwelt in the hearts of the populace. The sky might have been brighter, and the river could have been clearer, or so the spirit murmured, and so the people forgot the beauty of their own lands and turned with weary dread to face the merciless onslaught of Mordor. The black mountains towered over the living green like a wave from a sea of darkness, ready to crash down on Men and crush every hope and dream that had ever made them great.

Then, suddenly, Minas Tirith burst into view in all of its glimmering glory. Already the grey walls, painted by night's shadows, were blushing pink with pleasure at the tinted horizon. The sun broke free of the earth and the entire city burst into sparkling light. Above the splendor of the shining walls, the Tower of Ecthelion soared, high and proud. Pippin gasped at the sight of strength and beauty, but for Leigh the magnificent view was tinged with pain and remorseful thoughts of the son of this city's lord.

Whatever fate had planned for her, it would come soon.

A/N: Stop glaring, stop it right now! She will get to Minas Tirith, but I have slight writer's block, and I do not wish to ruin that wonderful stuff. You all know the drill: review or else! Mwahahahaha coughcoughcough, yes, say 'CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow' if you have read my author's notes!


	43. Meeting of Storms

Disclaimer: Oh come on, really! Do you honestly think I own this! Get a life you nit-picker!

A/N: Alright, I know, there was no reason why this took so terribly long to get out, but I do have some excellent excuses ranging from a baby shower to an opera, so eat your heart out! Ah-hem, so, back to the story! I really don't have anything else to say except that I have a whooping two and half pages written so far on my book. If that isn't pathetic I don't know what is. Enjoy, see you at the end!

Meeting of Storms

The first thought that came to Leigh as she rode behind Gandalf into the ancient city of kings was that it was like the bare skeleton of a great giant that was steadily slipping into decay. There were few plants still living in the soil-filled urns that sat by doors and under windows, and most of these were scraggly things planted purely for cooking or healing purposes. The city had forgotten what beauty was. A mere handful of Men still resided behind the towering white walls of the fabled city, and these few were nearly all soldiers, preparing for the inevitable storm that churned to the east. While the pure white walls of Minas Tirith were still unscathed and gleaming, moss crept up and around the stones, dimming their glory. On every corner an abandoned house sat forlornly, still looking with its hollow eyes for the return of the family that had once dwelt in it. Children's laughter was muted and women's perky conversations were hushed and foreboding. Soldiers were everywhere, guarding the gate and roaming the streets, ever clad in armor and ready for Mordor's first wave of attackers. Even the sun seemed bleak here, a distant dream of hopes long past.

It was into this dismal, bleached fort that Gandalf charged with his two young companions. The guards opened the gate for the White Wizard without question, Gandalf bellowing something about having news for Denethor. They flew along the winding road up to the seventh level, dodging in and out of gates and racing by only slightly curious pedestrians. Shortly after passing through the first gate, they came to entrance to the seventh level, where the tower stood as well as the White Tree. Shadowfax allowed himself to be led away with a quiet word from Gandalf, and the three proceeded on foot into the courtyard.

And there before them was the tree itself, in all its shattered splendor. It had stood as a silent, pale witness to the rise and fall of the powerful city over which it gazed. The Kings had reined, and then the Stewards, some good, some evil, some foolish. Nothing else in all of Middle-Earth depicted the broken and mournful state of Gondor as well as that solitary tree with its broken branches dripping water back into the fount which played by it. 'Hang on just a bit longer, old one,' Leigh thought. 'Blossoms of white shall grace this court once again.'

Pippin shared a glance with Leigh, asking silently about the strange dead tree in the center of the otherwise spotless court with its white stones and emerald turf. Smirking knowingly, the girl trotted after Gandalf deciding to possibly fill the little hobbit in on some of the tree's history.

They then came to a great house of stone with cool air and smooth, stone passages. If held the demeanor of a crypt. As they walked along hurriedly, Gandalf began instructing his youngest charge, assuming that Leigh would know well enough what was and what wasn't prudent to share.

"Be careful with your words, Master Peregrin!" he warned. "Theoden is a kindly old man. Denethor is of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and power, though he is not called king. But he will speak most to you, and question you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loves him greatly, too much perhaps."

"But wouldn't Leigh be better at answering those sorts of questions?" Pippin asked. "She has been with him for more time than I have."

Gandalf mercifully ignored this interruption. "But under cover of this love he will think it easier to learn what he wishes from you rather than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet the matter of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say nothing about Aragorn wither, unless you must."

"Why not? What is wrong with Strider?" Pippin whispered. "He meant to come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself, anyway."

"Maybe, maybe," Gandalf replied. "Though if he comes, it is most likely to be in some way that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better so. At least he should come unheralded by us." By this time they had reached the door they were heading towards. "Do as I bid! It is scarcely wise to bring the news to a mighty lord that one who will, if he comes, claim the kingship. Is that enough?"

"Kingship?" Pippin asked in awe.

"Yes," Gandalf said. "If you have walked all these days with closed ears and mind asleep, wake up now!" He knocked on the door.

Boromir stood in the shadows of the towering wall of Helm's Deep, listening silently to the debate raging between Aragorn and all those he held dear. The heir to the throne repeatedly begged that they leave him to take the Paths of the Dead alone, but the others would have none of it.

"Let me see here, Soon-to-be-Sire," Maylin chattered angrily. "If there was any chance of you ditching me it would have been when the Rohirrim were still here and I had another option that led to war. However, I am now officially stuck with you and vice versa, so learn to live with it, my friends did ages ago."

"This is no mere _road_, Maylin," Aragorn replied. "I would not see you fall into shadow beneath the mountain."

"If I didn't think I could handle it, I wouldn't be asking."

"The lass has been through fire and forest with us, Aragorn," Gimli put in. "Anything we can face she will doubtless run circles around with both her bow and her tongue."

"I agree," Legolas said quietly but firmly.

"If I had my way none of you would follow me down this path," Aragorn sighed wearily, sitting back on a rock and burying his head in his hands.

"Well we don't always get what we want," Maylin smiled.

"I wish to follow you as well," Boromir said as he stepped forward and into the light.

All eyes turned towards the heir of the Steward. The grey gaze of the Dunadan and the sharp glance of the sons of Elrond were fixed on him as he looked from his future king to the dusty ground still stained dully with red blood. By this time not a single one among them had not heard of his betrayal of the lady Leigh, who they all held in high respect by her deeds, though they had not met her. Not only this, but some had also been told of his attack on the Ringbearer, and his rescue at the hands of the woman who's trust he shattered, making his second offence all the more heinous. He who had been forgiven had turned once again. Who now could truly rely on this son of Gondor? And was he not also a threat to Aragorn, their lord and leader?

"There is much that I have done which I regret beyond words," Boromir said shakily, "but I feel that, even now, I may still be redeemed. For the transgressions against Frodo and Leigh there can be no apology that would justify or cleanse me in itself of my guilt. But if I may once again serve my lord and my _King_ then perhaps hope still remains for me. I am sorry for what I have done, and while I do not expect your trust or mercy, I pray that you let me fight once more by my sire's side, and wash away some small part of my acts by the blood of our enemies. The one who deserves my repentance the most has suffered greatly from my folly, and has been born far from her friends and comrades, and thus I may not present my pleas to her, or I swear I would do it. All I ask of you is this: give me one more chance, and if I fail then my life is no longer worth possessing. Let me ride with you for this last stand against he who would destroy all that we hold dear." With these final words he looked up once again into Aragorn's stern and unyielding gaze, passing on to him a silent request for mercy.

"I will do this," Aragorn said slowly after a lengthy pause. "I will allow you to ride by my side and under my gaze until such time as we enter Minas Tirith. There, you must make your amends with the lady Leigh. If she can find the compassion to forgive you, then so can I."

Then he rose and they went into the hall and held a short council, verifying those who would come with him without fear of being left behind in the middle of the night while the others road off to danger and adventure. They took little food and spoke in solemn tones of what lie ahead.

Suddenly Aragorn rose and drew his sword, shouting, "Come! To the Stone of Erech! I seek the Paths of the Dead. Come with me who will!"

Those who had entered the hall with him rose silently and followed down beyond the gate, where the Dunadan sat like graceful stones fashioned like men on their steeds, awaiting their king with their hoods hiding their faces. Halbarad lifted a great horn to his lips and loosed a blast that echoed throughout Helm's Deep. Then they were away with thunder from the hooves of their mounts and all the men left behind stared in amazement as the Grey Company passed from sight.

Before Leigh's apprehensive eyes, the doors swung open following Gandalf's knock. As they stepped inside the cold stone room, no servants were visible, although the door had opened by no power of those standing outside. Black columns raced up to the distant ceiling, decorated with flowing patterns of plants and animals flowing down around them. There were deeply cut windows looking in through the thick walls and letting in cool light that reflected off of the polished surfaces of the room. A riot of colors thrived in the gold that was fixed to the roof, the only real brightness in the room Unlike Edoras, no colored tapestries, hangings, or other cloth-work hung on the walls or carpeted the floor, rather everything was wrought of stone.

Standing guard between the pillars stood a host of silent and grave men carved of cold stone. They were akin to the Argonath in form and style, and their wise and noble faces inspired all who saw them with a quiet awe. Here stood lines of long-passed kings, and at the end of the noble lines stood marble canopy in the likeness of a crowned helm that shielded a magnificent throne. And yet it stood empty and barren. However, at the foot of the dias, was a plain black chair fashioned of stone that held in its chilling grasp on old man that sat gazing into his lap and clutching a white rod with a golden knob at its top. The three guests paced down the long room, but he did not even raise his eyes to greet them until they were three steps from his feet. Then Gandalf spoke for his attention.

"Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I am come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour."

Then he looked up at them, and in his stern and proud face, Leigh beheld a distant echo of Aragorn's nobility and bearing. But here it was turned inward and corrupted by selfish desire. The man's eyes were deep and dark, set in a face of pale skin and noble bones. "Dark indeed is the hour," he said in a humorless voice, "and at such times you are wont to come, Mithrandir. It has been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die."

"Die?" Gandalf asked. "Nay, Boromir lived wholly when last I saw him, and that was but a few days past."

"I have received this," said Denethor, laying down his ro and lifting up the thing that he had gazed at so steadily. It was the horn of Gondor, but it had been cloven through the middle, by the force of a blast.

"That is the horn Boromir always wore!" Pippin exclaimed. "I had wondered what had become of it."

"Verily," Denethor said. "And in my turn I bore it, and so did each eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the falling of the kings. I heard it blowing dim upon the northern marches thirteen days ago, and the River brought it to me, broken: it will wind no more." He fell into a heavy silence before he once again remembered the hobbit and turned back to him. "What say you to that, Halfling?"

"Thirteen, thirteen days," Pippin murmured doubtfully. "Yes, I think that would be so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came. Only more orcs."

"So," Denethor said, looking straight into Pippin's face. "You were there? Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet he did not, so mighty a man as he was."

"But he did escape, my lord!" Pippin cried. "Though he might not have had lady Leigh not acted as she did. No help came for there was none that could reach us."

"Lady Leigh you say," Denethor said icily, snapping his piercing gaze to the young woman. "More of her treachery is known to me than you know. How dare you bring the slayer of my son into my own house?"

"_Pardon?_" Leigh objected before Gandalf could speak up. "Firstly, while I fully admit to knocking your son unconscious, it was to save his life, had the orcs managed to shoot him he would have been a dead man. I defended him in the only way I knew how. Secondly, this house belongs to the _King_ and not the _Steward_, unless my knowledge of Gondorian history has failed me drastically."

Denethor seethed with rage, but before he could launch another attack on the girl Gandalf leapt to intervene.

"My Lord, she does not lie, Boromir lives," he said hastily. "Last I saw him he rode with the Rohirrim from the sacking of Isengard. I will vouch for her loyalty and honesty. She would never have done harm to a foe of the Enemy unless it was to protect them from some greater evil. When your son arrives he shall tell you himself.

"Leigh, keep your harsh words for other targets."

"This shall be known when our allies come to our aid," Denethor growled. "In the meantime, I shall trust your word, Mithrandir. Rarely have you judged a character wrong to such an extent. However, girl, know that you do not bear my goodwill."

"I shall return the favor then, _sir_," Leigh bowed in a somewhat mocking fashion.

"I will also stand for lady Leigh," Pippin spoke up. "And... I owe a debt to Boromir, for he saved us in the snows in the Misty Mountains and fought valiantly for my kinsman and me against many foes. Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in payment of this debt." Flipping aside the edge of his cloak, Pippin drew his small little blade and laid it at Denethor's feet.

A pale smile like a memory of spring's gleam in the dead of winter passed over the aged man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand, laying aside the fragments of the shattered horn. "Give me the weapon!"

Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him.

"Once again it is shown that looks belie the man- or the halfling. I accept your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have courteous speech, strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we shall have need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to come. Swear to me now!" Denethor commanded.

"Take the hilt," Gandalf instructed, "and speak after the Lord, if you are resolved on this."

"I am," Pippin said.

Denethor laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin laid his hand on the hilt and said slowly after Denethor:

"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings."

"And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor, Steward of the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking with vengeance." Then Pippin received back his sword and slid it into its sheath.

"And now," Denethor declared, "my first command to you: speak and be not silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you can of Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!"

A/N: Yeah, I knew from the get-go that those two wouldn't be getting along too wonderfully well. Boromir's back in the lime light! Yay! I missed his coolness. Jaden should be in the next chapter, muse permitting, so read and review, folks! You know how I work! Please say 'ice cream' because it is national ice cream month!


	44. Where Once was Love

Disclaimer: Um... No... I never said I owned this, and I don't say it now. I don't own the Lord of the Rings, if I did I'd be a rich old guy in a business suit.

A/N: Hello, all! Ahem I would like very much to introduce my new beta reader Moralinde! If you see dramatic improvements in the writing it's all her. Ok, anouncement time over. Enjoy!

Where Once Was Love

Frodo and Sam laid Jaden out near the wall, wrapped in her cloak with the dagger Galadriel had given her, and set her hand near her heart. Even as they set about their mournful task, it seemed that Jaden's soul made the final tug free of her body. In solemn grief, Frodo leaned forward and slid the girl's eyes closed, murmuring an Elven prayer beneath his breath. Sam could not stop weeping through the entire affair, blubbering and swiping at round tears that leaked from his eyes. Somehow, though, they managed it, and when they stood back to view their work, the sudden loss of their dear friend hit them all the harder, sending Sam's sobs to a new level and coaxing a new, silent wave of tears from Frodo's own eyes. She laid there, her hair just as wild as it had always been and her body poised as if in sleep, but the hobbits attending the lonely little funeral knew better.

Frodo had found the chain of the Ring clasped in the young lady's hand just after she had fallen silent, and it was with a heavy heart that he realized that she had, even so near death, tried to keep the Ring as far away from herself as possible while still striving to reach their goal. How tragic it was that at the moment of her death she had been bearing the greatest tool of the evil that had dragged her from her own home. Her courage had been great, and so had her sacrifice.

All that was left now to do was to lift her hood up to cover her frozen face, and yet the hobbits could not bring themselves to cut her off from them forever.

"Why…couldn't...she have just…stayed with Strider?" Sam whispered shakily.

"She followed the path she believed was right," Frodo said quietly. "Perhaps it is better this way; she will not have to suffer through the terrors of Mordor."

"Oh, you know that's not true, Mr. Frodo," Sam sniffed. "She would've stood strong till the job was done."

"It just seems so strange to me," Sam continued after a moment's pause, "that she knew the future of everyone else, but didn't know how to save herself."

"The Four didn't know any of their own destinies; they just knew ours," Frodo said. "But now we have no guide, and we have no prophet, but we must go on."

"Can we do it together, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, speaking of the hood.

"Of course, Sam. I don't think Jaden would have wanted it any other way."

Together, they stepped over on either side of her and reverently picked up the edge of her grey cloak. Then they pulled it up and forward with slow determination and draped it silently over her face.

"Good-bye, Jaden," Sam wept.

"May the stars guide you home, mellon nin," Frodo whispered.

The sun had just sunk beyond sight; its glow was still lighting the earth when the Grey Company came riding into Dunharrow.

Once again Maylin found herself thankful for her Elven abilities. While the others would doubtless have been griping by now about being saddle-sore and hungry, she kept her seat with ease and grace, barely even noticing a passing need for food. Of course, poor Jack was likely suffering a similar fate somewhere else on the vast plains of Rohan, but Aragorn's need for haste had driven them to speeds across the open plains that the King's Company could only wish for in their slower route through the mountain paths.

As they trotted up Lady Éowyn came to greet them with all the grace and power of a noblewoman born to a legacy of honor. Maylin, however, could easily pick out the signs of sorrow hidden behind her steady gaze and the feelings for Aragorn that she had hidden behind layers of courtesy. To say that the poor woman was surprised to see a host of fair and noble Men and Elves come riding into her camp would be quite an understatement.

"My Lord Aragorn!" she cried, immediately recognizing his face at the head of the host. "You have come much earlier than expected."

"I am grieved to have troubled you, Lady," Aragorn replied. "But we had great need of haste. Fear not for your uncle, the King, or your brother, for they ride here merely on slower paths than we took."

"This is a great relief, my Lord," she bowed. "I will see at once to food for you and your companions."

But as she turned away to call for hands for the horses and ladies to prepare the food, Maylin swung down from her horse and said quickly, "My lady! If you would allow me to come with you it would be my honor to help you in anyway I may."

"By all means," Éowyn smiled. "It would be _my_ honor for one of the Fair Folk and a member of this fine company to come with me."

Aragorn frowned in confusion at the youngest member of the Grey Company, but she merely mouthed back 'later' before following the lady.

The dusty world of Dunharrow was filled with people spilling out of tents and shelters, stamping horses, and the smell of hay and mountain air. As the sun departed to its evening chambers, the cliffs and roads of the refuge grew dim and grey, blending everything from dry plants to elegant horses into a lineless blur of vague shapes. Maylin's sharp Elven eyes caught glimpses of other eyes looking towards the mountain with quaking nerves. Everything here lived in the shadow of the ghostly specter that towered above the valley. Colors seemed to fade, and a primal fear flitted around just at the edge of awareness, taunting and teasing with cold whispers and chilling mists.

Even in the midst of such unease, however, one woman's firm resolve and commands brought the other's thoughts back from the misty paths of the mountain. Éowyn's speed and surety in her tasks astounded Maylin, and the other woman's ability to ask questions while giving orders and directions nearly left her dumbstruck. There was a military efficiency in everything Éowyn did that spoke of the strict laws of war and the necessity for order even in chaos. Here was a born leader and warrior. Maylin felt a short stab of pity for the Witch King, a _very_ short stab that was soon replaced by the usual laughter that the big, bad wraith was brought down by a woman who usually spent her time arranging meals and directing subjects.

In the hubbub of fires being stirred, dishes being conjured, and tables being cleared, Maylin found herself at Éowyn's right hand, going here to correct a woman on place settings and there to make sure the tents were being pitched properly and so on. It felt like preparing for some party with her friends, but this was what Éowyn had to do every day of her life, and she had become very good at it. Maylin was not quite as speedy as the Lady of Rohan, but she made sure that whatever job she was asked to help with was done well and properly. Even the little she did helped ease Éowyn's rush, and the woman took an instant liking to this strange elven woman.

"I must thank you again for your aid," Éowyn smiled.

"It was nothing," Maylin shrugged. "I could have done more, you know."

"Please forgive me," Éowyn smiled, "but we have met but briefly once at Edoras and in the hurry of preparations I have forgotten your name."

"Maylin," the elf grinned. "My name's Maylin."

"And I am Éowyn then to you: a friend alone without title," the White Lady said.

"It is a great honor," Maylin bowed.

"I feel the same," Éowyn replied.

"There is something that I must confess," Maylin laughed. "My intentions were somewhat influenced by hoping for a favor."

"If it is within my power, it is done," Éowyn said.

"There is a boy, or young man rather, who rides with your uncle, the King's company," she sighed. "I do not believe that I shall be here to keep an eye on him myself and I doubt your brother or your King will be able to. If you could simply find a moment…"

"I will see to it that he is well taken care of," Éowyn smiled. " What is his name?"

"Jack," Maylin answered. "You'll like him, I just know you will. He's been taught by the Elves of Lothlórien to play the harp and he's got one of the sharpest wits around."

"I'm sure I will like him," Éowyn laughed, "but you may very well be here when he arrives. I see no reason why you would not."

"Call it a hunch."

Then they returned to the others and led them to the place where the meal had been laid out. As they walked, Maylin was pulled to the side of the group by Gimli.

"What did you speak of with the Lady?" he asked curiously. "I hope you haven't given her any helpful hints that you haven't given us."

"It was nothing like that, Gimli," Maylin laughed. "I helped her with the preparations and asked her to take care of Jack for us."

"That I can understand," the Dwarf nodded. "The lad's as feisty as a ferret and as wily as a weasel. Better safe than sorry."

"How is Boromir holding up?" Maylin asked.

Once Gimli figured out what she meant, he replied, "Oh, he's bearing as well as can be expected with the silence of his fellows and the occasional glare he gets, but I think the punishment they try to deal him is as feathers compared to the regret he feels already for his actions. Love is a stern mistress, lassie; be cautious how you care for her."

"Was that a hint?"

"Never said it was."

"But there were implications."

"About what, then?"

"You know very well what, you meddlesome match-maker."

"If you are referring to your inner troubles with a certain blond pointy-ear," Gimli drawled, "then I feel it is my duty to tell you that I wasn't even thinking of it at the time."

"Fibber."

"I never lie," Gimli replied. "It might be that your situation was weighing on my mind and possibly _tainted_ the words that came out, but I was not _hinting_ at anything."

Just then, they were passing through the door to the tent where their dinner had been set out for them, and Éowyn was waiting there to greet them.

"You two bicker like sparrows," she laughed. "What are you discussing?"

"Nothing," they said simultaneously.

Under the flicker lights of the torches, they supped heartily and told Éowyn of all that had happened since they had last left her, leaving out a few bits concerning Boromir's 'incident' and merely saying that Gandalf the White had some mysterious need to depart swiftly with one of the Halflings and Lady Leigh. During this segment of the discussion, Maylin spotted Boromir squirming and looking longingly towards the East and his city, but Éowyn had eyes only for Aragorn and those who told of the Battle of Helm's Deep. Her eyes shone as they spoke of the slaughter there and the great deeds of the warriors.

Boromir had sunk once again into his despairing thoughts for his lost love. When the shining lights lit in Lady Éowyn's eyes at the talk of battle, his heart could only think of how Leigh's eyes lit in a similar manner when they fought the impossible masses set against them. Hope was lost to him, and he sought only to make his desperate plea at the feet of his lady ere death took him, for surely there was no chance for forgiveness for the words he had spoken to her. Often his brother had told him of the importance of words, and while Boromir agreed that they were great and powerful things, he held to the belief that his sword could inflict far worse damage. Now he had been proven utterly and terribly wrong.

Rising, Éowyn said, "Lords and Lady, you are weary and shall now go to your beds with such ease as can be contrived in haste, but tomorrow fairer housing shall be found for you."

"Nay, lady, be not troubled for us!" Aragorn replied. "If we may lie here tonight and break our fast tomorrow, it will be enough. For I ride on an errand most urgent, and with the first light of morning we must go."

"Lady Maylin did say something of that sort when we spoke together," Éowyn frowned. "But surely you have not ridden so many miles out of your way to bring news only to Éowyn in her exile."

"I fear not, my lady."

"Then you must be mistaken in your path," Éowyn faltered, "for there is no other road out of Harrowdale than that by which you came."

"Nay, lady," Aragorn shook his head. "I am not astray. There is a road out of this valley, and that road I shall take. Tomorrow I shall ride by the Paths of the Dead."

For a long time Éowyn spoke not and then, with great effort, she said, "But Lord Aragorn, is it then your errand to seek death? For that is all that you will find on that road. They do not suffer the living to pass."

"They may suffer me to pass," Aragorn said wearily, quite used to this argument by now, "but at the least I will adventure it. No other road will serve."

"But this is madness," Éowyn said. "For here are men of renown and prowess, whom you should not take into the shadows, but should lead to war, where men are needed. I beg you to remain and ride with my brother; for then all our hearts will be gladdened, and our hope be the brighter."

"It is not madness, lady," Aragorn answered, "for I go on a path appointed. But those who follow me do so of their free will; and if they wish now to remain and ride with the Rohirrim, they may do so. But I shall take the Paths of the Dead, alone, if needs be."

The rest of the dinner was gloomy and silent. None there wished to alarm the gentle lady who carried such a great and spirited fire within her, and yet they would not lie about their destination. Actually, she hadn't even asked about their destination, or the cause of their haste, only their road, and none felt that trying to justify their bold deeds would do much to assuage her anxiety. So they were silent as they finished their meal and spoke only in thanks to her as they passed out and towards their places of rest.

Maylin, however, felt no desire to rest and instead went out to look upon the encampment. Soon Jack would be here, and he would be even more alone than she. At least Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas were near her, but Jack wouldn't even have the company of the Sons of Elrond that they had so recently met. These also were going with her, following Aragorn. He had only Merry, really, for company. Éomer had said he would watch him, yes, but he would be busy with the muster, riding by the side of his king, and there would be but little time to keep an eye on a lad that might not even be permitted to fight. Of course, knowing Jack, he would find a way into the fray even if he was turned down as sharply as Merry. It had been wise to speak to Éowyn; she would keep her word and watch him for her strange friend, especially since she thought that said strange friend was riding to her death.

Then there were all those nasty internal issues, affairs of the heart. More than anything Maylin wanted to let herself love Legolas, but she feared, as any sensible girl would, that it was merely a crush, the sort of thing that would fade in time and leave her unhappy and lonesome. The threatening promise of eternal life was staring her in the face now, should she live through the war, and she feared what it might hold for her if she gave her heart away too soon. And teenage girls thought they had it bad.

That first hour they spent in the Great Hall was never lost to Pippin or Leigh. Leigh's fingers remained discreetly crossed in the folds of her cloak as poor Pippin was grilled by the menacing Steward. He questioned the hobbit about everything: nearly every word that left his son's mouth, every look he gave to every living thing, the road they took, the first death of Gandalf, and, most disturbing, the Four. Clearly, he knew something was up; only a fool would not wonder why four youths, two still barely beyond childhood, had been grafted onto the noble fellowship of great men. Of course, he was probably thinking the same sort of things about the hobbits. It was quite interesting to watch Pippin trying to tell the story without giving away any of the actual plot. Poor little mite. Leigh knew she wouldn't want to be grilled like that. She had been under Gandalf's scrutiny enough times as it was; a cranky old man's wrath was not what she needed.

At last Denethor seemed at least somewhat satisfied and rang the gong once again. To the servants who appeared he said, "Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him, and his companions may lodge with him for the present, if they will. But be it known that I have now sworn the halfling to my service, and he shall be known as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser passwords. Send word to the Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as may be after the third hour has rung.

"And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will. None shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only the brief hours in which I sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly fun off, and then return to my comfort!"

"Folly?" Gandalf asked. "Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will die. You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not understand your purpose in questioning for one hour one who knows the least, while I sit by?"

"If you understand it then be content," Denethor returned.

"I will say this," Gandalf said. "The rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other. But all worthy things are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?" And without another word he turned and strode from the room with a swirl of his pale cloak leaving Pippin and Leigh skittering along after him.

They followed their guide to a house by the wall of the Citadel, still on the top level. Once inside they were led up a set of winding stairs until they reached the level just above the ground that held a room, light and airy where he then left them. Two alcoves were set in the walls, both with good beds. Besides that there were few furnishings: a table, two chairs and a bench. All that remained were a few jars and basins for washing. Leigh made a beeline towards the three windows, all high and narrow, to look out at the magnificent view that looked out towards the Anduin.

Pippin was focused on only one problem, though.

"Are you angry with me, Gandalf?" he asked once their guide was gone and the door had been closed. "I did the best I could."

"You did indeed!" Gandalf laughed suddenly. He came over, put his arm around Pippin's shoulders and gazed out the window with him and Leigh. "Indeed you did your best," he said, "and I hope that it may be long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between two such terrible old men. Still, the Lord of Gondor learned more from you than you may have guessed, Pippin. One of these things concerns you, Leigh. He could not conceal that Boromir held feelings for a member of the company that led him over the Plains of Rohan instead of back to his home from the Falls of Rauros."

"There is nothing to suspect," Leigh said simply. Gandalf glanced at Pippin with a knowing smile.

There was more talk, mostly from Gandalf to Pippin, and then the old wizard departed with a last request that whenever the two went out that they check on Shadowfax for him.

Leigh did not leave the window, however; she was too lost in a meandering train of thought.

Had she misjudged Boromir? No. Hardly. Well, Maybe. Did he deserve another chance? So much had to be decided, and Leigh didn't even know what she was doing. It had always seemed to her that Maylin's romance had gone smoothly enough thus far; she hadn't had to deal with a backstabbing rat. Had he learned? Had she?

A/N: Did you like? If you did, I am glad, if you didn't, I am sad, but review in either case! Please say 'welcome' in honor of my new beta in your review if you have read my author's notes! Thanks much!


	45. Silver Cobwebs

Disclaimer: If I were Tolkien I would own The Lord of the Rings. If I were rich I would by the rights. I am neither, so I do not own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Hello, boyos! It is great to see new reviewers! Missing some of my old friends, though. Anyways! Everyone is in this update accept for Jack. Why? I would like Jack's bit to be longer, and I want the chapters after this to be less cut and paste if you take my meaning, so when you review please vote for whichever character you would like to have a whole chapter of first! Thankies much!

Silver Cobwebs

Despite all their efforts, Frodo and Sam couldn't tear themselves away from the covered body before them. After all they had been through, it seemed so unfair to just abandon her so near the finish. Jaden would never stand with them as the world was righted, would never see whether or not there was a happy ending to their story, and would never be reunited with the other members of the Four. Would she be missed in the land she came from? Would they ever know? If they ever survived this quest, how would they tell Maylin, Leigh and Jack? It was too much to bear.

"We had best leave now, Sam," Frodo said quietly. "It isn't safe to stay here any longer."

"Just one moment more!" Sam sniffed. "I just can't stand to leave her here, all alone."

"She would have wanted us to go on, Sam," Frodo said.

"I know," Sam bowed his head. "But how do we leave?"

"One step at a time."

Hand in hand, as they had come through the tunnel, the two hobbits turned away from the covered figure behind them and trudged ahead. The stones were sharper than ever and the bleak light brought little comfort. All had faded into shades of grey, red and black. There was no joy left in the world; it had been extinguished in one swift moment. The Shire was a only a fading memory with green edges and faint echoes of lost laughter.

It is a fact that even when one goes into a situation knowing that there probably will be extreme, you never truly expect it or understand it until suddenly there is one less person standing by your side. Only then does the shock of what you have accepted as your task settle down on your shoulders and drown out the frantic sobs and cries of your heart. Frodo had not asked for the company of either of his fellows, but they had followed him doggedly, and now he couldn't imagine life without either of them by his side. Of course, there was no need to imagine it now, for the worst had happened and young Jaden had fallen into a dark hole where she would lie forever. Somehow, though, even when he had seen her cold corpse with his own eyes and slipped the hood over her face, Frodo couldn't wake himself from the dream of hope.

Sam missed the careless smile that used to always tug at Jaden's mouth, and the way she laughed at the silliest things. How had they lost her? How had they let her just slip away like that? Surely there was something that could have been done. Slowly, though, he was coming to realize that she was dead, gone forever, and it was tearing him apart.

Then yet another terrible thing happened: Sting, which Frodo held unsheathed before him, lit up in a blue blaze, announcing the approach of many orcs.

"Which way now, Mr. Frodo?" Sam whispered, cowering back against a stone.

"I... I don't know, Sam," Frodo blinked. "I don't know what to do!"

"Back!" Sam declared, tugging at his master's cloak. "Back's the only way now. That nasty spider's got a bellyache like none other at the moment, and we have no other place to run to. It's now or never! Hurry! Before they spot us!"

Half pulling Frodo along behind him, Sam charged back into the stinking, festering abyss, past the discreet bundle lying by the wall, and back into the winding maze of Shelob's Lair.

.O.O.O.

Pippin was incredibly, unbelievably, and in all ways _bored_. It really didn't make that much sense to him. There he was, in the middle of a brand new city with plenty of nooks and corners to explore, and he couldn't even leave the room without feeling guilty. It was all Leigh's fault, to be honest. She had glued herself to the same spot by the window and had not left it. All she did was stare out into space and leave Pippin to his own devices. He had hoped that since _she_ was coming that there might be at least a little fun to be had, and yet there she sat like some great rock that wouldn't budge for all the world. It bothered him; it really did.

Trotting over and peeking out the window Leigh was gazing out of to see if there was actually anything of interest, Pippin began kicking his heels against the hard and unforgiving stone as his impatience grew.

"Are you just going to stay there forever?" he demanded at last.

"It hasn't been more than five minutes, Pip," Leigh smirked.

"Kindly remember to whom you speak," Pippin sniffed. "Are you bored? You look bored. I'm bored. Would you like to come outside with me? There has to be lots to see around here. Did I say before that I'm bored?"

"You mentioned it."

"You're bothering me."

"It's a talent."

"Something's bothering you," pronounced Pippin.

"No, it isn't," Leigh demurred.

"I might be distracted at times, but I'm not blind," the hobbit laughed.

"You must have a wonderful imagination then."

"Yes I do, but that's not the point here, is it?" Pippin grinned.

"What exactly is it that you think is bothering me then?" Leigh laughed in exasperation.

"Let me see... has a beard, fairly long hair, a nice laugh and goes by the name..."

"Stop it right there!" Leigh interrupted him.

"What?" Pippin smirked.

"You know what, you little smart-aleck!" Leigh groaned.

Pippin gave the irritated teenager a melting look. "Who, me?"

"Can it," she growled.

"What?" frowned the hobbit.

"Never mind."

"So do you want to go outside with me?" Pippin asked.

"Only if you'll stop this nonsense about you-know-who," Leigh relented.

"Deal. Let's go!"

Without another word, he was off. By the time Leigh made it out of the building, Pippin was standing in the middle of the street with his fists on his hips, tapping his toe.

"Not a word," Leigh warned. Pippin remained silent, judging it best not to push the young woman too far in one hour.

A bell began to ring in the tower. Three times the clapper struck the side, announcing that it was three hours since the sun had risen.

"Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire," Pippin said to himself. "Just the time for a nice breakfast by the open window in spring sunshine. And how I would like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it over? And when to they have dinner, and where?"

"They do have it, and that's all I'm going to say," Leigh grinned maliciously.

"You are very cruel, Leigh," Pippin accused.

"It's all in good fun," Leigh shrugged. "Besides, you'll find out soon enough anyway."

At that instant, they noticed a man coming towards them up the narrow street, clad in black and white. He came from the direction of the center of the citadel, and it was clear that he was on business. To Pippin's surprise and Leigh's knowing amusement, the man came straight up to them.

"Are you Peregrin the Halfling?" the man asked. "I am told that you have been sworn to the service of the Lord of the City. Welcome!" He held out his hand and Pippin took it, a bit shocked.

"I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning, and I have been sent to you to teach you the passwords and to tell you some of the many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I would learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this land. Moreover you are a friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him well?"

"Well," Pippin began, "I have known _of_ him all my short life, and lately I have traveled far with him. Only one of our company really knew him, but Leigh here might be more help than I."

"I have forgotten common courtesy," Beregond bowed. "It is an honor, my lady."

"There is no need for that!" Leigh laughed. "I am no high lady, only a common young woman who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. However, I can't tell you how relieved I am that you like me better than your lord did."

"Pardon me, my lady, but you do not seem the sort to go slaughtering good men," Beregond replied. "I am no great judge of the heart, but you lack the look of evil and malice that usually accompanies dark thoughts and deeds. Strange you do seem to me in manner and speech, but if all who acted and spoke strangely were evil then all the world would be fighting itself."

"Well said!" Leigh smiled.

"I am forgetting my errand," Beregond apologized, "which is first to know what you might have to ask. What would you know, Master Peregrin?"

"Err, well," Pippin stammered, "if I may venture to say so, rather a burning question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and all that?"

Unable to restrain herself, Leigh doubled over laughing.

"An old campaigner I see," Beregond said gravely. "Then you have not eaten today?"

"Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes," Pippin said. "But no more than a cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord; but he racked me for an hour of questions, and that is hungry work."

Beregond laughed. "At the table small men may do the greater deeds, we say. This is a fortress and tower of guard and is now in posture of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light, and go to our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!" Here he laughed again, for Pippin's face had fallen in dismay. "Those who have had _heavy_ duty take somewhat to refresh their strength in the mid-morning.

"Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment, and eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning."

"One moment!" Pippin blushed. "Greed, or hunger by your courtesy, put it out of my head, but Gandalf, Mithrandir, asked me to see to his horse- Shadowfax."

"Come then!" Beregond said happily. "You shall make me acquainted with the good horse. I love beasts, and we see them seldom in this stone city. But fear not! The visit shall be short, a mere call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries."

"One last request," Pippin said quickly. "Could Leigh come with us as well, at least for a bit? I don't think she ate anything at all, and she gets more lonesome by herself than she'll ever admit."

"Pippin!" Leigh exclaimed, embarrassed. "That's not necessary..."

"By all means!" Beregond said heartily. "I do believe that the other men off duty would be lighter of heart at the sight and sound of this young lady. Come now, the both of you! Both duty and mirth await us."

.O.O.O.

The moon had risen and bathed the valley in pearly light as the good folk living there retired to their tents and homes. Green and yellow grasses were turned into waving strands of spun silver and ebony in the dim glow. Above it all, Maylin sat thinking about all that lied ahead pondering on that had passed. She now found herself in a precarious situation balanced between love and despair, wondering if she could ever trust her heart to find love again. Of all the times to be lacking close friends this was the worst. Always before, Leigh at least had been there to beat some sense into her and vice versa; now she was alone and frightened by the gravity of the choice waving in front of her. Sitting in a world of silvery dreams, she prayed for the strength to find reality.

So much had already been lost. Sean, the innocent stranger, had been slaughtered simply for accidentally befriending the wrong group of Tolkien junkies, Jack had nearly died once already, Haldir had lost his eternal life, and now the not only the Fellowship, but the Four were scattered to the winds. The fact that Leigh was going to be in the thick of the war was not a comforting fact as Maylin sat looking out over a valley so many miles away. Would she ever meet the other girl again? Would Boromir earn his chance at redemption? Maylin did not particularly care about Boromir, but she did care about Leigh, and she knew that Leigh's heart had been wrapped up in Boromir's for some time, as was evidenced by the fact that she had risked her life to save his. Why did life have to be so difficult? What was wrong with having just one easy day every once in awhile? All of her life she had heard the age old proverbs about the silver lining and that it was always darkest before the dawn, but it was a lot harder to believe that when she was living in that darkness.

The one thing she was grateful for was her calm concerning the Paths of the Dead. Not once had she doubted her decision, even though she had doubted Aragorn's when he sent Jack away. Little did the ranger know that he was sending the boy into harder times than he would have had riding through the Paths and hopping on a boat. Ghosts did not scare Maylin, at least when she knew that they were benign. She was with the Heir of Isildur; there was nothing that could touch her, and she knew it. Her Elven blood probably helped just a wee bit as well.

Her thoughts were irrevocably drawn back to the Legolas issue. By this time, Leigh would have been either laughing at her or clubbing her over the head with something. Jack would probably be joining in or taking it all in from the corner to write about later, and Jaden would have been enjoying a good laugh at the whole fiasco, although she would have offered some sort of advice in the end, whether or not it was actually helpful.

" What's wrong with me?" Maylin asked the stars. "Even the ache of Haldir's death didn't feel this bad. Is this what it feel like to be heartbroken?"

A/N: Well? I await your replies! Remember, I accept annymous (THAT's spelled wrong!) reviews, so please do so if you have read up to this point! Say 'Thrush' if you have read my author's notes, please. Why? Because I'm rereading the Hobbit and that's the first thing that came to mind, that's why. Also feel free to thank my wonderful beta reader!


	46. Dreamland of Nightmares

Disclaimer: Oh, come on! You people are nuts! I DO NOT OWN LOTR! Did you get all of that?

A/N: Hullo! Thanks to popular demand, here is a chappie all about Jaden and her issues. Remember in your review to vote for who you want to be in the next chapter! Oh, yes, and one last little diddy. Kudos to whosoever can spot the slightly changed coughcough Monty Python quote that I hid in this chapter. I'm not a huge fan of that movie, but the lines are priceless. Thanks! Enjoy!

Dreamland of Nightmares

Shelob's agony was unbearable. In her dark lair she tossed and heaved her bulk up along the walls, trying to rub away the pain. The nasty little thing had stung her! If the torment of the wound hadn't clouded her mind as much as it had, her thoughts would have been bent fully on revenge. Her mortal wound was leaking more and more of her precious blood on the floor with every passing moment; she sensed death's cold embrace reaching out to her. To make matters worse, she was nearly lost in her own tunnels, thanks to the fluid from the stabbed eyes running into those that still functioned. At least one of the nasty little things had been taken care of, the one that had first bothered her. The thought of nice warm meat just lying there for her, so near and yet so far away, nearly drove the great spider mad. All of her labors, and for what? Nothing! She wanted meat to feast on besides the filthy carcasses of the orcs, and she had nearly managed to get three fine meals. Now, though, she was wandering, hurting and very, very hungry.

O.O.O.

With another desperate tug, Sam hauled Frodo around one last bend before he collapsed, gasping, against the sticky side of the tunnel. This was not a place he was happy to be in again, not one bit, but there was no choice. By now they had probably gotten far enough back in to be safe from the orcs and their twitching eyes and ears, but Sam's own ears were pricked up and listening for any sign of the hulking Shelob. She was down with them somewhere, and she would not be the happiest of creatures after the hole he had put in her. Stabbing giant, man-eating spiders was a much better business when one didn't have to traipsing back into the lion's mouth, so to speak. His eyes could still see a bit of dim light around the corner from the distant mouth of the cave, and, very cautiously, he risked a peep to see if the goblins had come inside just yet. They had.

From his hiding place, Sam couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but the tones were light and as happy as orcs could ever sound. They were huddled around a certain spot by the wall, a spot Sam realized had been the resting place of one of his dearest friends. It seemed that the disgusting things were gloating over her, as if she were some great find. In a matter of moments, they had her hoisted up above them and began to trek onwards.

Rage boiled up in Sam's heart as he saw Jaden's body being borne away by those creatures like some hunting trophy. His fists clenched around the edge of the rock and he growled angrily as angry tears spilled down his grubby cheeks.

A small yelp from behind him made Sam spin around.

Every once in a long while, one sees one's worst fears turned into living, breathing nightmares. Already, Sam had seen and felt his share of such sensations; he had suffered such an experience earlier that day with the tragic loss of Jaden. Somehow, he had thought that surely nothing else could possibly happen to him for a second time in one day. He was wrong. A few yards behind him was Frodo, limp, just as Jaden had been, and in the crooked clutches of Shelob.

With a fanatical yell Sam leapt at the monster, sword raised. A wild fire burned brightly in his eyes, kindled by sudden and severe loss, and at that moment nearly any living thing in Middle-earth would have cowered from him. His sword flashed dully in the shady light and he dove forward, slicing one of Shelob's spindly legs clean off.

Once again, Shelob cowered from the wrath of this little, stinging fly. She had no strength now to fight him. How could she have resisted the tasty little treat just crouching there, waiting for her? She had nothing to lose, why not go out with a full stomach? However, it seemed that this tiny thing had other plans, and she was no match for his blind rage at the loss of his master.

Slash, stab, cut. So it went for maybe a minute, and by that time Shelob had lost numerous legs and leg-ends as well as two or three eyes. Wheezing and gurgling faintly, she pushed herself backwards, away from the blue lightening that was still attacking her. Death was near for her.

As the spider withdrew, Sam fell, shaking and sobbing, to the cave floor. His master was lying dead on the ground, partially wrapped in thick white cords. The blood had drained from his face and he looked like a pale specter there on the ground, doomed to stare into the blackness for all of eternity.

"No, no, Mr. Frodo, no!" Sam sobbed. "You can't leave me now! Don't go where I can't follow."

Holding the body in his arms, Sam rocked back and forth, his tears washing down his face and onto Frodo's bleached skin. It no longer mattered if the orcs were just around the corner, nor did it matter that they might have heard the ruckus of the fight. All that mattered was that Frodo was dead, and there was no hope left in the world. The ringbearer was dead.

Sam now faced a terrible choice. He could stay and fight to the death over Frodo's body and heroically defend the ringbearer, dead or alive, until his dying breath, or he could leave his master behind, take the precious burden, and become the ringbearer himself. His loyal heart demanded that he stay by Frodo's side until the end, but his mind and wits ordered him to press forward and finish the mission that Frodo had begun. What more good could he do here? All he could do was go down fighting over a cooling corpse while the Ring fell into the hands of the Enemy. For some time he sat, scouring over his thoughts and playing the part of the rope in a fierce game of tug-of-war. Then, at last, he made his decision.

Very slowly and gently, he undid the clasp of the chain around Frodo's neck and gingerly lifted it over his head before laying it back to rest. No change came over the silent face, and this at last truly convinced Sam that Frodo was indeed dead and that the burden of the Quest had been passed on to him.

"Goodbye, my dear master!" he said quietly. "Forgive your Sam. He'll come back to this spot when the job's done- if he manages it, and then he won't leave you again. Rest you quiet till I come; and may no foul creature come nigh you! Goodbye!"

Then he placed the chain around his own neck and immediately he felt as if a millstone had been bound to him. Slowly, as if by finding some new strength, he lifted his head, rose to his feet, and found that he could bear his burden. Before he left, he made sure to carefully take the phial from Frodo's pocket and exchanged his sword for Sting, laying his own weapon in his master's hand.

It seemed that the good will of the Valar was still resting with Sam, for, just before he turned the corner, he remembered the orc host that had come upon Jaden's body, and reasoned that they may well be sending a second company now to investigate the noise. With shaking hands, he reached up and pulled the Ring from its chain. Did he dare do what Frodo had so feared doing? He had no choice. He slipped on the Ring.

The world changed. Sound was heightened, and sight blurred. It wasn't the darkness of Shelob's Lair; it was more like walking through a heavy mist in a fuzzy painting. It seemed as he was the only solid thing in the world, and he felt that he had been made more visible instead of less; somewhere there was a great Eye looking for him.

Quickly, he dodged to the side as black shapes came trotting towards him, bearing flickering torches. Thank the Lady, he had put the Ring on not an instant too soon.

"What's this?" a gravelly voice ground out. "Got another one, has she? Twice in one day!"

"Eh, you think this one's a friend of that first one?" another orc asked.

"I'd guess so," a third said. "Looks like old Shelob had a second round, or a first, here. Which one do' ya think she got to first?"

"It's none of your business anyways, which one she got first," yet another said, swaggering forward with another large orc. "Just pick this one up and get off after the lot carrying the first."

The goblins obeyed their commander and quickly scooped up Frodo's body, gathering up any lose articles.

"What are you going to do with him? Don't forget I spotted him first. If there's any game, me and my lads must be in it," the leader's companion rumbled.

"Now, now," the first growled. I have my orders, and it's more than my belly's worth, or yours, to break 'em. Any trespasser found by the guard is to be held at the tower. And the prisoner is to be kept safe and intact, under pain of death for every member of the guard, until He sends or comes Himself. That's plain enough, and that's what I'm going to do. He's wanted for Lugburz, I tell you. He's wanted safe and whole."

"You'll find that difficult," the other laughed. "He's nothing but carrion now. What Lugburz will do with such stuff I can't guess. He might as well go in the pot."

"You fool," the first snarled. "You've been talking very clever, but there's a lot you don't know, though most other folk do. You'll be for the pot or for Shelob, if you don't take care. Carrion! Is that all you now of Her Ladyship? When she binds with cords, she's after meat. She doesn't eat dead meat, nor suck cold blood. This fellow isn't dead!"

Sam reeled, clutching the stone to keep from falling and giving away his position. Deep inside of himself he was saying, "You fool, he isn't dead, and your heart knew it. Don't trust your head, Samwise; it is not the best part of you. Now what is to be done?" For the moment, nothing, all he could do was hold himself against the rock and listen to the rough orc voices.

"Garn!" the first orc continued. "She's got more than one poison. When she's hunting she just gives 'em a dab and they go limp as boned fish, and then she has her way with them. Nar- this little filth, he'll wake up, in a few hours; and beyond feeling a bit sick for a bit, he'll be all right. Or would be, if Lugburz would let him alone."

"So we've got both of the trespassers now, eh?"

"Both?'" the first scoffed. "There were more than two, I think. Did you see how this one was laid out with the sword, like the other? There's another one on the lose somewhere, some big warrior, and Elf I'd guess."

"Typical Elf trick, just leaving them there," the second grumbled. "What of the first? Is it really dead?"

"I don't think so," the first shook its head. "From the look of things, this all happened recently. The one we found first was the first to get stung, and then we surprised the other two when we came tramping in with all that noise from your men, and they fled back this way. Shelob was waiting and she got one more before the third sliced her again. Just look at the mess on the floor. Most likely Her Ladyship just didn't have time to wrap the first one, this second wasn't even completely wrapped."

The voices began to move away and Sam, now recovered from his shock, was taken by a wild fury.

"I got it all wrong!" he cried. "I knew I would. Now they've got him, the devils! The filth! And they've got poor Jaden, too! Never leave your master, never, never: that was my right rule. May I be forgiven! Now I've got to get back to him. Somehow, somehow!"

He took off running after the voices until he distantly saw their red eyes and heard their voices again, farther down the tunnel, the first telling the second that he was going to put the prisoners up in the top tower, where they'd be safest. From what he gathered, the two leaders didn't get along too wonderfully well. Then the two of them passed through a massive gate at the end of the tunnel and the great doors closed shut with a bang. Iron bars fell into place inside. The gate was shut against him. Sam hurled himself at the door and fell senseless to the ground. Frodo and Jaden were alive, but taken by the Enemy.

O.O.O.

Fuzzy shapes drifted in and out of focus in Jaden's eyes. Eyes glared at her through bleary faces and dim mountains moved in the dark. It seemed like distant suns were flickering far away, burning out and flaring to life again in a dizzying dance of leaps and flashes. She wandered through her own mind, trying to remember how she had come to this twisted land of daydreams. Had Leigh and Jack slipped something in her drink? No, she had left them, left them all at the Falls. Was Maylin trying to be kind and flashing a light in her eyes? Once again, no, she was gone with the others. Frodo and Sam, that must be it. Sam had somehow cooked a coney with the wrong type of herb and she was recovering from a sudden illness. There was no fire in the pass above Minas Morgul, it couldn't have been that, but she was getting closer. Wait... there were images in her mind now, distorted shapes of monsters and battle. Shelob, it was Shelob that had stung her!

Jerking onto her side, Jaden coughed up the little food that was in her aching belly and sobbed. She felt worse than terrible. The place where the stinger had punctured her leg throbbed, and her stomach and head sympathized. To be blunt, it felt like her head had just been hit by a semi, and her stomach was doing enough flips and twists to toss out her intestines. Once again, she heaved a thin stream of liquid onto the floor, groaning and sobbing in agony.

That nasty spider had poisoned her!

A while later, once her heaves had stopped, Jaden eased herself onto her back and examined her surroundings as well as she could. There was only one door to the tight little cell. What made it the first thing to be noticed was its location: it was set in floor, so she was in the topmost chamber. A red lamp was hanging down from the center of the ceiling, and the one window-slit was high above the floor and let in little to no light. The floor was neither especially dirty nor especially clean, besides, of course, the mess she had just thrown upon it.

She might, perhaps, have enjoyed her surroundings a bit more if it weren't for the company she found herself with. Two large orcs, most likely Shagrat and Gorbag, who Maylin called The Orcs Who Say 'Mine,' were hissing and spitting over a pile of objects that clearly were not natives to the dark tower. Jaden's dagger, along with her cloak and boots, were set on the rough ground and were members of said pile.

'Look on the bright side,' Jaden thought to herself. 'Frodo and Sam will just reach Mount Doom this much sooner.'

It was at that moment that she recognized the other objects in the pile. Sam's sword was flung aside, hobbit-sized clothing was being tossed around and examined, and, worst of all, a delicate, shining vest was being fought over by the two goblins. Jaden moaned aloud.

"Eh, awake, heh?" the smaller one, Shagrat Jaden guessed, sneered. "Have a nice little sleep? Your little friend isn't awake yet, still sleeping like a baby. You should have stayed asleep; you made a mess, you little rat."

Jaden thought it wise to look away and thus not risk offending either one of the brutes. This brought an unexpected reward: she saw Frodo lying about three yards away from her.

"Caught him right after we dragged your carcass back here," the smaller orc snickered. "Seems you know him. Friend of yours?"

Once again, Jaden felt sick.

Her head began to spin at the sight of the little hobbit thrown so carelessly beside her, painfully thin and paler than was normal or healthy. Images of her life floated behind her eyes. It seemed to her that she saw Leigh's grin when she graduated and heard Maylin's squeals when she got her first car (granted, it was barely holding together, but that hardly mattered). Jack popped out of nowhere and held out a piece of cake that he had made in home-ec. All of these seemed glimpses of a life lived by some other person in a distant dream from long ago in a distant land. Goblins and Hobbits belonged in books and movies right along with Elves and Wizards. The closest one could get to such an experience as she was living was by dressing up in elaborate costumes and tramping around a massive fair filled with similar nuts that frightened their families. Imagination was the key to fantasy, not spooky, teen-abducting black riders, and whenever you wanted to get away from the bad guys, you only had to close the book.

This was no book, this was her new life, and all she could do was to roll with the punches. What were the others doing? Were they all safe; was Jack still propping his feet up in Lothlórien, or had he managed to catch back up to the others? Would Boromir ever get his tongue untangled and just spit out a proposal to Leigh? Was Maylin finally coming out of her dreamy state to find that there was a beautiful, blonde-haired Elf pining for her? Most importantly of all: had they driven Gandalf and Aragorn crazy yet?

Quietly, Jaden chuckled to herself.

"What's so funny?" one of the orcs demanded, whirling on her and kicking her in the back. "There's nothing funny here! Pretty soon Lugburz will get his hands on you, then you won't be laughing so happily!" From her position on the floor, Jaden heard a strange sound, like leather being pulled over stone. "This'll teach you to keep your mouth shut!"

Jaden screamed as the first lash from the whip cracked across her back.

A/N: Am I very mean? I have been told so, just earlier today, actually, and by a reviewer! Thus far I have one vote for the next chapter, and they want Jack. What would YOU like? Please say 'fuzzies' if you have read my author's notes! Thanks, and don't forget to REVIEW! Namarie!


	47. Starlight

Disclaimer: I don't even have a job, how on earth could I afford to buy the rights to the Lord of the Rings! Gyah! I do not own it!

A/N: Wait! Before you pull out your crossbows and icky medicine to torture me, listen to my reasoning! This chapter is all about Maylin (put that knife away!) but I wrote this part before Jack's because hers comes first in the timeline, and I didn't wish to confuse anyone, myself included. It might be a while before another update, due to the fact that both my beta and I will be away on trips for a little bit. See you at the bottom, and I'll make up for the lost time with a nice, long, dual-person entry!

Starlight

As Maylin reclined on the hillside, admiring the moonscape stretched out below her, she sensed someone walk up silently behind her.

"It is beautiful," Legolas said.

"Yes," Maylin agreed.

"Such beauty should not be admired alone," Legolas said, sitting down quietly beside her. "The night grows late. Have you rested?"

"No," Maylin shook her head, "not yet."

"You know better than any other what tomorrow shall bring," Legolas said. "One would think that such knowledge would kindle more common sense."

"The Elvish blood helps," Maylin shrugged.

"Even we need to rest at times," he replied.

"I know," Maylin said. "I just don't feel like sleeping at the moment, if you understand me?"

"You fear for the others," Legolas nodded.

"I feel a bit bad... about leaving Jack," Maylin squirmed.

"As you said, 'he left you,'" Legolas smirked.

"You know what I mean, wise one," Maylin rolled her eyes. "A few months around Leigh and you've already become a smart-aleck."

"She does tend to spread that," the ellon agreed.

"What do you think she's doing right now?" Maylin wondered. "I bet she's either bumping along, still on Shadowfax, or she's already making Denethor's life just a little more complicated."

"Denethor?" Legolas cocked his head.

"The Steward of Gondor," Maylin explained. "Boromir's father. He is not exactly the friendliest of Men, and I somehow doubt he'll get on well with Leigh and her tongue."

"May the Valar preserve Minas Tirith," Legolas laughed.

For a little while they stayed like that, watching the stars and looking down at the delicate grasses swayed by the wind. Quiet solitude had descended down over the two Elves as they sat on the soft turf. High above them, the stars wheeled and danced in their age-old patterns, looking down at the couple watching them so intently from the ground. They knew everything and hung above the world, observing, learning, watching and listening. The Elves they knew well, and it seemed that the futures of the two sitting far below were laid out before them like intricate threads of silver and gold, woven over time into something far more exquisite than the pieces alone could ever be.

Slowly, gently, Legolas took Maylin's hand in his and raised her gaze to his face.

"There is something that I have for too long left unsaid," he whispered. "It has been implied, but never openly declared, to you. I love you, Maylin. Many times have those words floated on my tongue, but they have not passed my lips. From afar and near I have watched you and cared for you. I have done my best to guard you. I have offered my consolation and my sympathy; now I offer you my love. I love you, Maylin, I always have."

Maylin opened her mouth to speak, but the words escaped her. It all came down to this: did she truly love him back? For a moment she remained silent, and then she replied, although shakily.

"I- I love you, too... Legolas," she whispered.

There, under the stars, the night before they left to go on their path to war, Maylin, a young woman from another world without family or connections, and Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, shared their first kiss.

O.O.O.

The grey morning crept into the valley over the mountains as the first fires were stirred and the people began to wake. The Elves had long since descended from their lofty seats and were walking among their companions as they prepared their mounts to leave. Simple fare that could be cooked and served quickly was given to the company just before dawn, and before the sun showed its face the Grey Company was gathered together and ready to depart.

Maylin had not seen Éowyn since the previous night at dinner, but she had little doubt as to what had occupied the older woman's mind in the early hours of the morn. Of course, Maylin was well enough wrapped up in her own thoughts to not worry overly much for the strong Rohirric maiden. Legolas only left Maylin's side when he was called away, and he spent every spare moment speaking with her and her with her horse and gear.

Of course, the pretty Elf's attentions didn't go unnoticed by many among the Grey Company. Being Elves themselves, Elladan and Elrohir were among the first to notice the looks and smiles being passed between the two and consequentally walked around with smirks playing on their faces. Of course, the first to really notice Legolas's distraction was his closest friend: a sturdy Dwarf by the name of Gimli.

"You didn't stay with us long last night," Gimli remarked casually, walking up to Legolas during one of the few instances when he was alone. "Even Elves need their sleep."

"I am sorry if I worried you, Gimli," Legolas replied. "I had... other matters to attend to."

"Oh?" Gimli leaned on his axe. "And would said 'matter' have pointy ears and a pretty smile?"

"Possibly, master Dwarf," Legolas smirked.

"Then all is forgiven!" Gimli roared. "So the little Elf finally plucked up the nerve to ask the lady! Tell me, my princling, have you set a date?"

"No," Legolas shook his head. "The war must be ended before we go any further in our relationship. Our resolve was mutual. After that, I must take her to meet my father. He would be greatly displeased with me if I ran off to war only to return with a wife he had never laid eyes on."

"Then I shall go with you," Gimli said stoutly. "Goodness knows that lassie will need some protection from all of those prying Elves." Legolas laughed.

A short distance away, Maylin was working on stowing her weapons when the sons of Elrond approached her.

"We have not seen you since the rising of the moon," Elladan said easily.

"One must wonder where such a fair lady has been hiding," Elrohir said sweetly.

"It would do you both credit," Maylin replied, continuing on with her work, "if you were to take after your father just a bit more."

Both laughed at this. "It is because of these Men all about us," Elrohir said merrily. "They have destroyed our solemnity."

"Don't get me wrong," Maylin said, "but these Men do not seem quite the type to spend a happy evening by the fire singing songs and telling old jokes."

"When the time is right, the Dúnedain can be as jovial as any other race," Elladan said. "However, I do see why you would doubt."

"Ah!" Elrohir exclaimed. "The lady has thrown us off the scent! You have yet to answer our wondering, Lady Maylin."

"I was quite safe," she said. "I was with Legolas for some of the evening, if you must know."

"The truth comes out," Elladan smirked.

"If Leigh were here she'd be chasing you off with her sword by now," Maylin grumbled.

"She is very dear to you then?" Elladan asked, sympathy in his eyes.

"Yes, along with Jack and Jaden," Maylin nodded.

"If Estel's plan succeeds," Elrohir grinned. "You shall see them again soon."

Then, thankfully, the two Elves were forced to go off and attend to their own duties. Legolas slipped back to Maylin's side as they left.

"Were they bothering you?" he asked, a sparkle in his eye.

"No, not really," Maylin smiled, "but I suspect that this won't be the last time we have to explain ourselves."

"I concur," Legolas nodded as he fastened Maylin's bedroll behind her saddle. "Gimli was just speaking to me on the same topic."

"The thought of meeting your father scares me to death," Maylin shuddered.

"One battle at a time, Maylin," Legolas smiled.

Very shortly after this, as Aragorn prepared to mount his horse and ride off to meet whatever horrors awaited him under the mountain, Éowyn appeared, dressed as a Rider and bearing a cup. She drank a little from it, wishing them good speed, and handed it to Aragorn, who also drank.

Unable to watch Éowyn's spirit be shattered, Maylin turned away and focused her thoughts on the passage under the mountain, summoning all knowledge of it that she possessed. So little was known; she wished she knew more. Time in battle had taught her to watch and learn what she could of her enemy, so that her arrows might fly truer and her opponent might die faster, but now she was left with only the pieces of lore written down by Tolkien. She feared for her soul, even though she knew that, as an Elf, she had no need to fear the dead spirits of Men. Once she had been human, and her spirit retained those qualities, including the silent dread of things returning from the next life.

Suddenly, Aragorn sprang onto his horse, and they were off.

Even now the light was grey and not even red streaks of the approaching sun lit the sky. It felt as if ashy dread had swallowed the glen into which they passed through the Door of the Dead. Ancient, dead fir trees poked up from the ground and their needles carpeted the stone and earth beneath the hooves of the horses, muffling all sound. Then the Dark Door gaped open before them, and the Grey Company found themselves staring down the throat of the mountain. Ancient signs were carved over the door and fear flowed out of it like a fine, grey mist.

"My blood runs chill," Gimli murmured, but the others remained silent.

Here, the company halted and dismounted. Only the hearts of the Elves did not quail as they stood before this portal of doom, except perhaps Maylin, whose human fears still thrived in the dark corners of her mind.

It took some time to coax the horses of Rohan forward. Only Legolas and Maylin bore mounts not of the north, who followed their masters even into the mountain, for the love between the horse and rider was strong. After much murmuring and stroking, they led both horses through the dark door and into the ominous darkness.

Now only Gimli was left before the door. His knees quaked and he became angry with himself. "Here is a thing unheard of!" he growled. "An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!" With that, he plunged forward and was immediately swallowed by the blackness.

Torches had been brought from Dunharrow, and now Aragorn led with one in front, and Elladan brought up the rear, with Gimli stumbling along behind him, trying to keep up. Both Maylin and Legolas kept towards the back with Elladan; Maylin to keep near the light, and Legolas to await Gimli's arrival.

Nothing hindered or attacked the company as they traveled on through the gloom, but the whispers of voices speaking in a strange tongue came from every side. It didn't take poor Gimli too long to catch up, for his fear of the invisible host gathering behind him was enough to spur him on to ever-greater speeds. There would be no turning back.

For a time unknown, they continued on into the darkness, not stopping or turning from the straight path. Then they came to a wide-open space, and Maylin could almost feel the frigid hands of ghosts blowing over her skin. Shivering, she scooted closer to Legolas, who placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her nearer to the light.

A dead, richly clad body was lying by the wall, frozen in its efforts to claw through a thick, stone door. Cautiously, Aragorn handed his torch to Elladan and strode over to investigate, though he did not touch him.

"He was one of the royal line of Rohan," Maylin whispered to herself, remembering the old tale of how he strode into the mountain on the whim of a brash boast.

"Nine mounds and seven there are now green with grass, and through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not unlock," Aragorn murmured. "Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!

"For that is not my errand!" he cried, spinning and speaking into the whispering darkness. "Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"

No answer came from the thick blackness, but a mighty wind rushed down on them, and their torches sputtered and were blown out. They could not be rekindled, and the many hours that followed were spent in utter darkness in the weird catacombs beneath the mountain. Neither Gimli nor Maylin remembered much from that time; there was no way to count the hours or see what they passed. Legolas was ever beside his beloved, however, and his arm was a steady weight that kept her anchored to reality through the unending dark.

Suddenly, through the silence, they heard the tinkle of water, clearer and more welcome than any other sound that Maylin had ever heard, except perhaps the voice of Glorfindel when she had been lost in the wild. Light suddenly grew and they passed out of a gateway. A road ran steeply down the feet of the mountain, and cliffs rose on either side like knives piercing up into the sky. It was now two hours until sunset on the same day that they had left Dunharrow, although it had felt like a lifetime.

They now remounted and rode on along the path. Elladan brought up the rear of the Company, but he was not the last to go down that road that night.

Looking back, Legolas said, "The Dead are following. I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night. The Dead are following."

"Yes," Elladan agreed, "the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned."

A/N: Spooky, Spooky, SPOOKY! Yeah, random Muppets Treasure Island quote. Stop laughing, it's a fun movie, alright! Please say 'crossbow' if you have read my noteses! Thanks, and PLEASE REVIEW!


	48. Foreshadow of Tomorrow

Disclaimer: If I grew a giant pumkin the size of my house I could sell it and be rich, but I lack a green thumb, so that won't happen, and I'll never have enough money to buy the rights to LOTR. So, I guess I don't own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: I have been sick, so stop throwing daggers at me! Also, school has started, and we ALL know what that means. I worked as fast as I could to get this out for you, and it's nice and long, too! Next I shall write about Jaden, ok? Ok. Enjoy!

Foreshadow of Tomorrow

It was a strange, sky-less world that Jack rode through. Cliffs towered up and up until his neck could bend no further. There was a strange intensity to the whisper of the shaded trees and the ponderous crack of stone, and it felt to Jack as if he was standing at the point of a funnel that was poring the entire weight of Middle-Earth onto his shoulders. Honestly, Jack had enough pressure, and he swiftly decided that, while the young mountains of his world were fine for a short vacation, the heavy peaks of Middle-Earth were not for him.

Soon, however, his thoughts were taken off of the mountains by the heaviness of his eyes. While the company in which he rode did not ride fast, they did ride long. They had now been riding for three days with only little rest, and Jack was tired.

It was a wonderful addition to his list of woes. Thus far he was depressed, lonely, forlorn, pressured, unnerved, and now he was tired! At this rate he would hardly be in condition to fight before the White City. He would of course fight, no matter how tired he was, and no matter what the King of Rohan said. Théoden had of yet spoken no word against his going with them to Minas Tirith, but Jack feared the worst. True, he had a horse, so Théoden couldn't use his slowing them down as an excuse, but the man was an old and wise ruler, and he was sure to have a few tricks up his sleeve. Kings needed to have ways of politely telling someone 'no' in a way that made it look like it wasn't their fault. On the other hand, Jack knew better than to fall for anything like that, so if King Théoden pushed him off of the party wagon, it would be one hard fall.

When they had set off, Jack had almost instinctively drawn closer to Merry than anyone else. Of course, Merry was the only one there that he really knew, and the others that might be called acquaintances were the King and his heir, which meant that they would most likely be very busy at nearly all times. So far, the little Hobbit had remained silent for nearly the entire trip, most likely wrapped up in his thoughts about Pippin. Poor little mite.

"I am forgetting them!" Merry suddenly exclaimed.

"Forgetting who?" Jack asked.

"Frodo and Sam," Merry bowed his head. Then his head shot back up, and he added sheepishly, "and Jaden."

"I can understand why Frodo and Sam would be the first of that trio to come into your mind," Jack shrugged. "Anyways, what do you mean by forgetting them?"

"While I've been thinking plenty about Pippin, Gandalf, and Leigh, and everyone who just left us, I realized that I haven't thought about those three in ages," Merry confessed.

"It's easy to forget something that you can't see," Jack smirked. "It happens all the time where I come from, and here too most likely. Think of it this way: have you ever had a favorite shirt or something, and then it gets lost in closet? It's like that, you find it again, and suddenly you remember it and all the thoughts and memories connected to it. We haven't seen those friends in ages, and it is quite likely that at times they forget us too."

"I get it," Merry nodded.

"Good," Jack said, "you're not as thick as Pippin."

"Indeed not," the hobbit said proudly, puffing out his chest.

They continued on for some time, not stopping, urged on by the close proximity of their destination. Jack had to admit that he would be deeply grateful for a warm meal and even a rough bed, provided that he was left to sleep on it in peace. So, instead of stopping at their usual hour and halting for a fleeting sleep, they pressed on into yet another valley, which was already shaded by night's veil.

At length, they came to a ford in a gurgling stream and were met with men springing from the rocks and brush, shouting at the coming of their king. One of them pulled out a horn and sounded it off into the valley; many more blasts responded.

After Théoden had conferred with his soldiers, he led his people farther on into the hidden place. They passed many rough homes made of grass and the clear evidence of people living there. Many of these valley dwellers came out to bid welcome to their king as he passed. Beyond the cluttered arrangement of the common people were rows and rows of orderly tents pitched in an open field. Spears were stuck in the ground like trees bereft of their limbs and the masses turning out to cheer their king were even greater. No fires had been lit here or in the section behind for fear of the black shadow that had passed Edoras on its way to Isengard. Every watchman they passed was cloaked thickly against the blaze-less night.

As they left the tents and warriors behind, they began to wind up the narrow way to where the king and his personal comrades would rest for the night. Shortly after they had begun their climb upward, Jack saw the first Pukel-man grow out of the gloom.

"A Pukel-man!" he cried, not caring whether someone might hear him.

"Say what?" Merry asked, cocking his head as he examined the funny, fat statue sitting down with crossed legs and arms.

"A Pukel-man," Jack repeated. "They were made by a race that left here some time ago. I wonder if Maylin noticed them on her way up... She'll be really mad with herself if she missed them."

"What's so special about it?" Merry inquired. "They're certainly interesting, but the Riders don't seem to mind them at all."

"Oh, you wouldn't understand," Jack sighed. "If Leigh were here she'd be bouncing to the moon, and Jaden would be hopping right along with her. Maylin would shriek most likely... I hope the Grey Company isn't deaf now."

When they first saw the Dwimorberg, Jack began to wonder whether Aragorn had been correct in his decision to leave him out of that dark little road trip.

"I hope we're not going in there," Merry gulped.

"Don't worry," Jack comforted him. "We're not."

Then they turned off of the road and met a Rider who approached them on foot. As soon as they were near enough, it was clear that the Rider was Lady Éowyn, dressed in battle gear to the waist, still bearing a woman's skirt.

"Hail, Lord of the Mark!" she cried. "My heart is glad at your returning."

"And you, Éowyn," Théoden said. "Is all well with you?"

"All is well," Éowyn said, though her voice told a different tale. "It was a weary road for the people to take, torn so suddenly from their homes. All is now ordered, as you see, and your lodging is prepared for you; for I have had full tidings of you and knew the hour of your coming."

"So Aragorn has come then," Éomer said. "Is he still here?"

"No, he is gone," Éowyn replied, turning and looking towards the shadowy mountain the rose above them.

"You are grieved," Théoden stated. "What has happened? Tell me, did he speak of that road?" He pointed to the dark path that led into the drifting shadows of the mountain's mouth. "Of the Paths of the Dead?"

"Yes, lord," Éowyn bowed her head. "I could not dissuade him. He is gone."

"Then our paths are sundered," Éomer mourned. "He is lost. We must ride without him, and our hope dwindles."

Now, for the first time in three days, Jack and Merry were separated. Merry had his own little tent pitched by the side of the King's pavilion, where he could easily reach his new master; Jack was on his own. One of the Riders who had been left to guard the people escorted him to his own tent, only a little farther away.

A bit moody, he sat on the cot, the only furnishing in the canvas room. He left the flap open so that he could watch the people pass by, hoping to distract himself from his thoughts. The thoughts had other plans, however, and he was soon staring into oblivion as he wondered about the fate of his friends, and what exactly was his own fate. To that point Théoden had made sign of leaving him behind, but he hadn't given any warning to Merry either. Jack wanted to join the magnificent charge against the hordes of Mordor, and his instincts told him that the battle before Minas Tirith would be the place where he would be reunited with his friends, both old and new, excepting the three that had gone to Mordor.

"You are Jack," a voice suddenly broke through his thoughts, "friend of Maylin."

Jack looked up and found that while his mind had been absent, Lady Éowyn had come to stand in his doorway.

"My lady," he said as he rose and bowed. "Yes, I am he."

"We have seen each other only briefly before this," Éowyn said, "I wished to be certain."

"Of course," Jack nodded. "May I ask what brings you here?"

"Maylin asked me to make sure you were well," the While Lady explained.

"That certainly sounds like her," Jack smirked. "I am sorry if it has been a bother, my lady, I am sure there are many things that demand your attention."

"There are," Éowyn laughed, "but it has been no bother. In a few minutes I shall send a guard to fetch you to the King's table, both my uncle and my brother have requested your presence."

"It is an honor, my lady," Jack bowed again as Éowyn left to once again attend to her duties.

As the lady had said, several minutes later one of the King's guards appeared at the entrance to Jack's tent and bade him come to the King's pavilion. Jack's stomach rumbled and he wasted no time following after the armed soldier to the open flap of the large tent.

The distinction between King and soldier was obvious as the young man stepped into the ornate, portable house. Tapestries hung from the canvas walls and intricate knots and horses had been painted on nearly all of the rough material that was not already covered. Even a few low chairs were scattered about on the covered ground. Jack approached the interior of the tent where a smaller section had been cordoned off by rich hangings to make a small room where he found the King, Éowyn, Éomer, and the lord of Harrowdale sitting about a small table. Two more stools had been positioned around the table. A regular one had been placed between Éomer and the lord of Harrowdale, and a second, smaller one had been positioned at the King's side, undoubtedly meant for his eager young esquire.

"I bid you welcome, Master Jack!" Théoden said, forgetting the darkness for a short time and welcoming a friend. "Rarely has my table been honored by so young and brave a stranger. But for what little time we have, be not a stranger but a guest. Though I know you but little, many who know you far better than I have spoken high words of you."

"It is my honor, sire," Jack bowed before sitting on the carved wooden stool. "However, I must warn you: if either of these that you speak of who praised me so highly went by the names Leigh or Maylin then I can assure you that they have greatly exaggerated."

Théoden laughed. "Many great warriors would say the same of their own deeds."

Their talk was then interrupted by Merry, who took that opportunity to appear through the door. For a few minutes the little hobbit faithfully stood behind his master's chair and waited on him, until the King turned at last and smiled at him.

"Come, Master Meriadoc!" he said. "You shall not stand. You shall sit beside me, as long as I remain in my own lands, and lighten my heart with tales."

As it turned out, there was no call for tale-telling during that meal. True, the shadow had been dimmed by the brightness of the lights and the warmth of the food, but it was not banished. Jack knew that this darkness was just the beginning, and that soon a greater and more tangible darkness would be upon them, just as it was at that moment over Minas Tirith.

While Merry plucked up the courage to ask of the dreaded Paths of the Dead and the royal family answered him, Jack's mind fled far away to the land of Lórien, and all that he had seen there. Although his friends had seen much of that magical land, he had seen, heard, and learned far more. The swords of the training guards and soldiers had flashed in the practice field where Haldir had taken him to learn the art of the bow. As his own arrows traveled closer and closer to the target, Haldir's white bolts had shot into the heart of his mark in half the time it took to blink an eye. The first feel of the harp strings still vibrated in his fingers as fresh as the day he had first plucked the sweet strings. Voices had woven around the mallorn trees like wondrous silver filigree and it was then that his harp had first answered to them. That instrument would forever play to the distant echoes of the voices of Lothlorien. For eternity his fingers would only be able to kindle the sweet refrains from the tunes of the elven kingdom, and though others might not hear the heart of the music, he would forever listen to the bittersweet notes of a white land fading into the dark of time.

Suddenly, the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain and said, "A man is here, lord, an errand-rider of Gondor. He wishes to come before you at once."

"Let him come!" Théoden commanded.

A tall, grey-eyed man swiftly entered, dressed for war in a shirt of mail and a bright helm. He bore a single black arrow with black fletching and a steel tip with the tip painted red as if with blood.

The messenger dropped to one knee and presented the arrow to the King of the Riddermark. "Hail, Lord of the Rohirrim, friend of Gondor!" he said. "I am an errand-rider of Denethor, who sends you this token of war. Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim have aided us, but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all your speed, lest Gondor fall at last."

"The Red Arrow!" Théoden said heavily. He received the weapon and held it with the look of one who accepts news long dreaded but long expected. His hand was trembling. "The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it indeed come to that?"

As if on a whim he turned to Jack, who had quickly snapped out of his thoughts at the coming of the messenger. Perhaps he sought council, perhaps he sought solace; whatever it may have been, he turned to Jack for reassurance or news.

"Is the hour indeed so dark, young Jack?" Théoden asked in a voice tinged with the fog of despair.

"It is," Jack said solemnly. "A darkness comes upon us, and the need is great. All the foes of Middle-earth have been stirred and now march against you. Long has Minas Tirith survived by the bravery of its dying warriors, but this time their blood alone will not be enough to stem the tide. If the white walls of Minas Tirith are washed away, the wave shall crash over the mountains and into the Riddermark. Now is when you must rise to fight. It is the battle that will decide the fate of not only Gondor, but the free world that it protects."

"My tidings are much the same," the errand-rider nodded, looking reverently at Jack. "The Haradrim are moving, and our coasts are now in peril. It is doubtful that much aid shall come from there. Many kings of the south and others have joined Mordor, and it is rumored that war marches on the kingdoms of the north as we speak. Rohan can be our only aid, there is no other."

"Both of you bring me words of dark omen," Théoden said, "can either of these messengers conjure a spark of hope?"

"Hope is always there when looked for," Jack comforted. "I can say no more, my Lord."

"Your words, though brief, lighten my heart, Master Jack," Théoden smiled. Then he turned to the errand-rider.

"Six thousand at least shall ride with me," the king declared. "Say to Denethor that in this hour the King of the Mark himself will come down to the land of Gondor, though maybe he will not ride back. It is a long road, however, and man and beast must reach the end with strength to fight. A week it may be from tomorrow's morn ere you hear the cry of the Sons of Eorl coming from the North."

"A week!" the messenger cried. "If it must be so, it must. But you are like to find only ruined walls in seven days from now, unless other help unlooked-for comes. Still, you may at the least disturb the Orcs from their feasting in the White Tower."

"At the least we will do that," Théoden said dryly. "However, I myself am new-come from battle, and I will go now to rest. Tarry here this night, and ride all the swifter for the rest. In the morning counsels are best, and night changes many thoughts."

The King then rose and the others stood up from the table. "Go now each to your rest," he said, "and sleep well. And you, Master Meriadoc, I need no more tonight. However, be ready to my call as soon as the Sun is risen."

"I will be ready," Merry said, with as much energy as the typical young hobbit is bound to have, even at late hours of the night.

Jack left quietly and retired to his tent. He didn't bother undressing, opting to simply 'turn in all-standing,' as the term went. There were two thick blankets at the foot of the cot, and the young man made good use of both, burying himself underneath them to create a cocoon of pleasant warmth in the chilly mountain camp.

In a matter of moments he was fast asleep, dreaming of all that had happened and all that might be. The next day would begin the Muster of Rohan, but for the moment he was content to sleep and dream. Let tomorrow worry about itself.

A/N: I'm thinking that there will be at least one more chapter totally dedicated to Jack, so the Jack fans shall be happy! Anyways, that won't be next. Next we will hear more from Jaden! Thanks to my awesome beta! If you lovely readers have read this fic and my author's notes, please REVIEW and say 'grey day'. Thanks much!


	49. What was Lost

Disclaimer: I'll cut to the chase: I do not own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Greetings! I know, it's been a while since I last posted, but both my beta and I have been busy, so there. I have nothing creative to say... Enjoy!

What was Lost

The air in the tower room grew steadily staler as the hours slipped by, and Jaden was unable to refrain from wondering where on earth that courageous, but unbelievably slow, hobbit named Sam was. It was sheer torment to lie there on the cold stone floor, just watching the two orcs rip, shred and toss about their belongs. Thankfully, the Valar did grant Jaden one great mercy: the brainless carcasses failed to think that her beloved journal was of any great importance and simply tossed it aside without damage. There were few things that could really make Jaden mad, but if she saw the one thing that had kept her sane torn apart by those grubby hands, she would undoubtedly lose it.

Some time earlier, Frodo had woken up and taken in their situation. The moment his eyes had landed on Jaden, it was obvious that he didn't know if he was alive or dead with the girl in the next life. When he finally did decide that he was alive, the joy beaming from his face brought some warmth back to Jaden's soul.

As soon as the moment of joy passed, however, Frodo realized what was missing: the Ring. Desperately, Jaden tried to mouth that it was with Sam, but Frodo didn't quite get the message, especially when an orc came up and kicked Jaden in the back for moving too much. Needless to say, there was very little communication after that.

For a long while the orcs continued to search through their belongings, looking for everything and nothing all at once. Then the shouting started. Both were grabbing at the mithril shirt that Bilbo had given Frodo all those months ago, and soon shouting escalated into shoving as Jaden and Frodo watched helplessly from the floor. Thankfully, thee bickering pair managed to move their quarrel out of the topmost chamber before things became violent.

As the battle broke out below, Jaden let her thoughts slip far away, back to her life before she had been ripped away in a black whirlwind, and across the leagues that stood between the dark tower where she now lay and her distant friends. As they fought for freedom, she guarded their savior as he entered the deepest and darkest regions of Mordor, and she didn't even know why she was there. Nothing had, as of yet, happened to justify her risk of joining Frodo and Sam as opposed to staying with her friends. By now, she was quite sure that fate had it in for her; she just would have appreciated a warning sign posted somewhere that told her what to do. Should she warn them before they ran into danger? Should she keep her know-it-all mouth shut? A little help would go a long way, but one weak link in this chain could shatter it. had she taken too much of a risk by going with the Ringbearer?

What was she doing there at all? Why hadn't she done the smart thing and stayed behind in Rivendell, or with Jack in Lothlórien? She wouldn't be in the way there, and she'd be safe, well fed, and warm. Leigh was the obvious hero of the group, and Maylin was wicked with a bow. Even Jack knew his way around a couple weapons, not flawlessly, but well enough to do some serious damage. The only real weapon Jaden had was the dagger Galadriel had given her, and at the moment it was somewhere below her in the clutches of fighting orcs. Fighting orcs. An absurd image of the expression on her neighbors' faces if she should tell them what exactly she had been up to for the past few months flashed through her head, and for a moment Jaden almost laughed. Who needed to live in Hobbiton when you lived in the suburbs? Maylin would have flogged her for thinking that, but oh well.

The light from the red lantern dangling from the ceiling provided their only light. None came through the window, for Sauron's black cloud was thickest in Mordor. Time could not be measured, and several lifetimes played out in Frodo and Jaden's minds. None of their daydreams had happy endings now; death and destruction were everywhere. Shadows lengthened over the earth as vast kingdoms crumbled to dust and graves gaped open to swallow the dead. No light stood against the darkness, but blinked and shuddered ere the shadow even reached it. Scarlet beams danced over their eyes, and blood flowed over the golden fields.

Slowly, the tumult dimmed and deathly silence gripped the tower. No voices were raised in jest or anger, and the curving stairs were silent. It seemed to Jaden and Frodo that a great monster had swallowed the levels below them and that any sound would bring it coming, scratching at the wooden trap door in the floor. The noise had been terrible, but the silence was worse.

In the endless hours that came after the last death-shriek, Jaden felt her will and mind dripping away. Few torments could be worse than that waiting quiet that swallowed sound and thought. For a little while, she was able to bear the strain, but then her body began to shake and her hands trembled in their bindings. Jaden's eyes misted over and the dam threatened to burst. A single tear rolled down over her dirty face and crashed to the ground, followed by another and another. All was red and dark, no light could be found but the steady, watchful red light of the lamp that stared down at them like a flaming eye suspended in space. Sobbing and beginning to wail, Jaden hid her face under her arms, trying to block out the awful light, the terrible red light.

The monster came up through the floor and struck her with a whip until she reined in her cries and cowered against the wall by Frodo. Jaden did not cry again, but laid still like the dead, afraid to move, and barely daring to breath for fear of the monster with the lash.

The darkness swirled and spun for hours on end as Jaden huddled against the unfeeling stone. Then, as the waters rose up to swallow her, Jaden barely heard, a whispered melody, like the soothing breeze that blows down across a summer field. For a few stanzas it bore her up from her nightmare, and then Frodo began to sing haltingly from his place beside her. In an effort to join the rhythmic and soothing flow, Jaden hummed the meandering tune along with her hobbit companion. Slowly, the cloud around Jaden began to melt.

The orc below heard their 'noise' and stomped out of the room he was lurking in on the floor beneath them.

"Ho, there!" the creature shouted up. "You up there, you dunghill rats! Stop your squeaking, or I'll come and deal with you. D'you hear?"

The two prisoners froze at the sound of their jailor's voice.

"All right," Snaga, the orc, growled. "But I'll come and have a look at you all the same and see what you're up to."

The trapdoor opened once again and the orc's ugly head popped up, quickly followed by the rest of him.

"You lie quiet, or you'll pay for it!" he ordered. "You've not got long to live in peace, I guess, but if you don't want the fun to begin right now, keep your traps shut, see? There's a reminder for you!" The whip cracked down twice, lashing both captives.

Suddenly, a bright blue bolt of light slashed down and severed the whip-arm of the orc, and standing there, wielding the avenging weapon, was Samwise Gamgee. Enraged by pain, the orc turned and charged the little hobbit, only to fall over the swift creature and tumble down the hole to his death.

Jaden sighed and let her head rest back against the wall. Everything was all right now. Sam had come to the rescue.

"Frodo!" he cried. "Mr. Frodo! It's Sam, I've come!" Lovingly, Sam lifted his battered master and held him to his chest as he would a a small child. Slowly, Frodo's eyes fluttered open and he took in the face of his dear friend.

"Am I still dreaming?" he murmured to himself. "But the other dreams were horrible."

"You're not dreaming at all, Master," Sam insisted. "It's real. It's me. I've come."

"I can hardly believe it," he said. "There was an orc with a whip, and then it turns into Sam! Then I wasn't dreaming after all when I heard that singing down below, and I tried to answer? Was it you?"

"It was indeed, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "I'd given up hope, almost. I couldn't find you."

"Well you have now, Sam, dear Sam," Frodo sighed, leaning back in the other hobbits arms and closing his eyes to sleep.

Carefully, Sam woke his master and Frodo blinked awake and regained a few more of his senses.

"Oh!" he cried suddenly. "I have forgotten Jaden! Jaden is here! She is alive! We must find Jaden!"

"Found," Jaden smirked.

Sam blushed crimson. "I'm so sorry, Jaden, I forgot..."

"It's alright, Sam," Jaden smiled tiredly. "I wouldn't want to stand between you and your master."

"Are you badly hurt, Jay?" Frodo asked.

"No more than you, probably less," Jaden replied.

The thought hit Jaden that about now Frodo would remember that the Ring was gone, and he would begin to panic, and then the scene that made readers everywhere shudder at the power of the Ring would unfold. Quickly, Jaden thought of a way to excuse herself.

"I'll be back," she groaned as she pushed herself up.

"Why? Where are you going?" Sam blinked.

"To get a bit of camouflage," she replied cryptically.

Taking her time getting down the ladder, Jaden thought over where she should look for armor. While the thought of peeling it off of dead orcs wasn't the most wonderful thing she had ever thought of, she much preferred to enter Mordor incognito than strutting about in her Elvish clothing. Jaden was glad on many levels that she still had her chain mail; it would be one less item to find.

As her foot stretched down to touch the ground, it slipped on something soft and firm, sending her tumbling over backwards. Jaden lifted her head to see the dead orc lying there with its head snapped in a sharp angle. Luckily, there was nothing in Jaden's stomach, but impulse sent her into a fit of dry heaving at the sight of the body.

Once she was sure of her feet again, Jaden hobbled down a few sets of stairs, examining bodies as she went. The memory of pulling the disguises off of the corpses was something Jaden would never forget. In the end, she collected a full suit of orc clothing for Frodo, who was presently shirtless, a helmet and cloak suitable for Sam, and a helmet, surcoat, and cloak for herself. Hauling her load up with her, Jaden returned to the tower.

"What's this?" Frodo asked as Jaden tossed her loot at their feet.

"Disguises!" Sam cried, slapping himself on the head.

"You would have thought of it yourself, but I beat you to the punch," Jaden smirked. "Lucky me. Next time I'll let you do the nasty jobs. There's a bit here for everyone, mostly Frodo here, who has the least to begin with."

Soon, they were dressed, packed (for a few things had been recovered from around the room) and ready to depart from the shadowy tower. Once again, Jaden scrambled down the ladder, closely followed by Frodo and Sam, ready to continue on the quest.

Then, the first bit of luck in some time happened upon Jaden. From the corner of her eye she spotted a worn and familiar cover lying flopped open on the filthy stones. With a cry, she leapt forward and seized her precious companion, holding it as gently as a baby and examining the pages and binding for damage.

"Your journal!" Frodo cried happily. "It must have fallen from the tower room when some orc was going up or down the ladder."

"I thought I'd lost it for good," Jaden sniffed. Her eyes brimmed with tears. This was the one thing she didn't think she could do without, even if she was unable to write in it for the time being. She really should name the blasted thing 'Wilson'.

"We've all found what it was we were looking for," Sam nodded solemnly. "Now let's leave this place."

A/N: It's shorter than I would have liked, but it was difficult to write because it was so serious in a couple places. There will be more on Jaden, but I think the next chapter will be a Leigh chapter, since we haven't seen her in ages. Just a note for the Maylin fans out there: we will not see more of her until she arrives in the ships at the battle. This is just a Tolkien-copy thing, because he does that in the book, and Peter Jackson then used that in the movie. Ok, I'm done. Oh yeah! I have an ear infection now from being sick before, nice huh? Please REVIEW and don't forget to say 'phoenix feather' in your review! Thanks!


	50. The Black Dawn

Disclaimer: Read my lips: I. Do. Not. Own. The. Lord. Of. The. Rings!

A/N: Hello again! Yeah... sorry this took so long getting out, but my I accidently sent my beta the wrong chapter and now I have this one, and my beta is working on the one that comes before it. Thus, if the time frame is a little off, you know why. Alright! I know some of you at least used to read my other fic, Spirit of a Freak, in the X-Men catagory. It is now finished. Sniff I was a hair's breadth away from crying as I wrote it. Please review it and finish reading it if you started it, and I would be very appreciative. Thanks much.

The Black Dawn

Dawn did not come to the plains. When he was once again summoned to rise and come to the King's side, Jack saw with a heavy heart that the sky had been hidden by a vast curtain of thick, black clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. Quickly, Jack readied himself and marched to the King's pavilion.

There were already voices speaking in dark tones within as he pushed aside the flap and entered the tent. Not only the rider that had come the night before, but another messenger dressed in the same fashion stood before Théoden.

"It comes from Mordor, lord," the second messenger said. "It began last night at sunset. From the hills in the Eastfold of your realm I saw it rise and creep across the sky, and all night as I rode it came behind, eating up the stars. Now the great cloud hangs over all the land between here and the Mountains of Shadow, and it is deepening. War has already begun."

The King sat silent for several long minutes, his eyes distant. "So we come to it in the end," he said at length, "the great battle of our time. We will ride the straight way and with all our speed. The muster shall begin at once, and wait for none that tarry. Call the heralds, Éomer. Let the Riders be marshaled!"

Bowing, Éomer went out with the two messengers and shortly the blasts of trumpets blew over the valley, although their noise was made dark and doomful by the threatening sky.

"Young Jack," Théoden said with a weary but hopeful voice, "you shall ride with us to the aid of your friends and the end of the age. Though it grieves me to call on one so young, I know that you would go with a steady heart and a ready blade."

"It would be my honor," Jack bowed.

Then the aged king turned to the little hobbit who had been standing silent but ready by the door for most of the council.

"I am going to war, Master Meriadoc," he said. "I release you from my service, but not from my friendship."

"But, but, lord," Merry stammered, "I offered you my sword. I do not want to be parted from you like this, Théoden King. All of my friends have gone to battle, or are going with you. I would be ashamed to stay behind."

"But we ride on horses tall and swift," Théoden gently rebuffed him, "and great though your heart may be, you cannot ride on such a beast."

"Then tie me on the back of one, or let me hang on a stirrup, or something," Merry pleaded. "It is a long way to run; but run I shall, if I cannot ride, even if I wear my feet off and arrive weeks too late."

"Rather than that I would bear you with me on Snowmane," the king smiled. "At least you shall ride with me to Edoras and look on Meduseld. Stybba can bear you thus far; the great race will not begin till we reach the plains."

Éowyn then rose and took Merry away with her to be suited in armor befitting his size, and Jack was left alone with the mighty king.

Tired, Théoden sank into one of the gilded chairs set about his pavilion. His head came down and rested in his hands.

"You did not jest when you said that darkness approached, Master Jack," he said wryly. "Tell me truly," he looked up and met the young man's gaze, "is all lost for us?"

"No," Jack replied. "It is after the long night that hope shines the brightest."

"Gandalf has taught you the art of speaking in riddles," Théoden snorted. "But I am comforted. I did not think you one to ride willingly to your own death."

"I may be," Jack shrugged. "Many of the men riding to your banner will not return again to their homes when this war is done."

"Yes," Théoden agreed quietly. "The green field of the Pelennor will run red with the blood of Rohan and Gondor, but how much more would be shed if we did not ride to battle? It is a far better thing to die for the right and just than to wait and die in cowardice as the Shadow advances. Are we all doomed then, one way or another?"

Stepping forward and dropping to one knee before the weathered man, Jack said, "We shape our own dooms. If you hid behind another's shield and were felled by a stray arrow, then it is your own fault for not standing firm in the time of need. Fate may be known to a few of us, but it is still in your power to change it."

Théoden looked again at the mysterious stranger who had walked into his life in the company of Elves and kings. In a moment he would ride forth with his armies to face one of the greatest threats ever to threaten his world, and this foreigner was willing to throw his own life into the fray and fight by his side. "Your eyes are strange to me," he murmured. "In them I see the life of a boy and the fight of men, all shadowed by the burden of knowledge."

Then the moment was ended and both men rose to leave and prepare for war.

.O.O.O.

Armor had been brought to Jack's tent in his absence and was laid out on his cot. A light hauberk, along with greaves and gauntlets of hardened leather decorated in the Rohirric fashion, were set on his blanket, waiting to be donned. Jack smirked. The others would either laugh at him or envy him when they saw him decked out in actual Rohirric armor. Personally, he might have preferred the lighter protection that many elves wore, but he was quite happy with what he could get. Then two more objects caught his eye on the other end of his bed. A helm very clearly of ancient elf-make rested next to a broad sword marked by the twisting motifs of horses. Swiftly, he dressed in the hauberk and other armor before reverently donning the helm and buckling the sword around his waist.

He then proceeded to where he had last seen his horse to get the beast saddled and ready for the ride ahead of them. As he entered the tent where the majestic creatures were being held, he saw the Lady Éowyn waiting for him by his horse's stall.

"Greetings, lady," he bowed. "I am sure I look either very courageous or very foolish."

"The former, I assure you," the lady smiled. "Truly, I know not whether you are Man or Elf, though I am not the only one to wonder.

"However, I am afraid that I have only a little time, Master Jack," she continued. "My brother and I spoke last night after the council, and we both believe that you need a worthier steed than the one which bore you here."

"Why?" Jack cocked his head. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Éowyn laughed, "but we fear for you in battle. Your horse has not been trained for war, and it may well shy in the midst of battle and leave you exposed to an attack." She began walking down the row of stalls and Jack trotted along after her. At last they stopped before a beautiful white horse with flecks of grey along its nuzzle and flanks, and a mane the color of moonlight.

"This is Fengel," Éowyn said proudly. "He is the brother of my own steed, Windfola. Éomer and I both promised to keep you safe and well, as far as it was in our power, and Fengel needs a rider to call his own. Consider him a gift from the people of Rohan for your valiant deeds. He is yours now, care for him well, and may he bear you to good fortune."

Before Jack could get any words out of his mouth, Éowyn had placed the reins in his hand and hurried off to prepare for departure herself; of course, only Jack knew that bit. He now found himself staring into the dark eyes of the most beautiful animal he had ever seen.

"I have a horse," he gulped.

.O.O.O.

Jack quickly saddled Fengel and cleverly stashed his spare weapons and belongs. It was easy to find a place for almost anything; only his bow, quiver and harp took a certain level of creativity. Soon, he figured out that he could hang the quiver from the saddle bow and place his unstrung bow behind him with his harp, which was well wrapped and securely tied to the back of the saddle and any other bit of trapping that the cords could reach.

There wasn't a bratwurst's chance in a dog kennel that he was going to leave his precious harp and bow behind. He wasn't worried about the bow being damaged, but he had been skeptical about the harp. On the other hand, he had carried it on his own back all the way from Lothlórien, and it wouldn't endure anything on this next trip that he hadn't put it through on that one. The horse's pace shouldn't bother it when it was so well protected and stashed, and Elvish instruments were a lot like Elvish weapons: they were tougher than they looked.

Once he was done, Jack led his new friend out and into the hustle and bustle of the organizing ranks, hoping that no one would run him down with a huge horse by his side. Then a new thought dawned on him.

"Shoot," he muttered. "Now where on earth or Middle-earth am I supposed to go?"

"To the front, with me!" a small voice cried from behind Jack.

Spinning around, the teenager saw none other than Merry sitting astride his fine pony, decked out in armor and ready to go.

"How do you know?" Jack asked, but mounting and following the little hobbit nonetheless.

"Because my lord told me," Merry replied, clearly still enjoying declaring his faithfulness to his new master, even though said master was going to leave him behind.

"Alrighty, then," Jack nodded.

No one said much as they passed,for everyone was focused on the matters at hand, trying not to think about what they were possibly riding to. Conversation was limited to orders, and every face was stern and set.

At last, the two reached their station in the forming line: just behind the King and Éomer. The latter, however, turned his horse and rode up beside Jack while the ranks behind them continued to line up.

"I see that Éowyn found you, then," he nodded in approval. "He is a fine horse, treat him well."

"Oh, I will!" Jack promised. "But are you really sure you want to give him to me? I mean, I'm not even a man of Rohan or anything, and..."

Éomer silenced him with a raised hand and a smirk. "I am sure," he said. "Fengel here suits an upstart minstrel like yourself wonderfully well. Your temperaments are well matched. Should we survive this war, I shall enjoy watching the bond between the two of you grow." With another knowing smirk, he returned to his uncle's side.

After a little more time had passed, a trumpet sounded and the king led his people on towards Gondor. No songs were sung on the journey, and no harp was plucked. Many songs would be sung of the deeds they set out to do as they left the grim shadow of the mountain behind them, but those songs would not be heard until the blood and gore of battle was washed and gone. Their ride was silent and shadowed by the heavy gloom of Sauron's cloud.

They reached Edoras by noon and stopped briefly to eat and strengthen their number by over three score Riders who had not arrived in time for the muster at Dunharrow. This did not take long, and they were soon ready to set out again and begin the great race to Minas Tirith.

Merry took this opportunity to plead his case one more time.

"This is no journey for steeds such as Stybba, as I have told you," Théoden replied. "None of my Riders can bear you as a burden. If the battle were before my gates, maybe the minstrels would remember your deeds; but it is a hundred leagues and two to Minas Tirith. I will say no more."

The saddened little hobbit bowed and walked away, leaving the king to his business.

"I find it strange," Jack mused aloud, "that I am allowed to go, and Meriadoc is not, when I could easily bear him along with me, since I am lighter than any of the other Riders." Now he had Théoden's attention. "Unless, of course, that is not truly the king's motivation."

"I have no excuse to hand you that would not insult your honor," Théoden replied. "Only your age and lack of battle experience could have been used against you, but while you are certainly young, there are likely other boys near your age hiding somewhere in the ranks outside, and you have already seen battle. Both of you were given to me to protect, and I shall pray to the Valar that you stay safe on the field before Minas Tirith, but if I can restrain Merry, then so I shall."

Then they took their leave of Edoras and charged into the open plains before the city. In the first day, they rode twelve leagues and camped by they Entwash. Jack now rode behind the king and beside the errand-riders as he had when they departed from Harrowdale, but his little hobbit friend was not there to cheer him, and in such solemn company beneath such a terrible sky, his spirit soon sank.

He may well be riding now to his death, or to a reunion between friends. Somewhere behind him, Merry was most likely thinking the same thoughts. So many critical pieces came together at this battle; if only one was out of place, then the entire thing could fall apart. Aragorn would arrive, he was certain, but if something happened with Leigh in Minas Tirith and the defenses were not ready, or the city had already fallen, or Gandalf had become locked in a duel with the Witch King, then the whole thing could go bad.

At least at the rate the Rohirrim were moving. They would arrive in time to do their part. How the others managed things was up to them.

A/N: The section that's supposed to come before this one is all about Leigh in Minas Tirith before the cloud comes, so now you know. That chapter will be posted as soon as I get it. Bear with me in the way of timing, first I have to write it (while working on a book and juggling school), and then ze loverly beta must go over it and send it back to me. I am tired, and the medicine I am taking is making me depressed, so PLEASE review! It makes me happy. Say 'electric slide' if you have read my author's notes, pretty please!


	51. Shadowed Horizon

Disclaimer: Oh, maresy otes andoesedotes an liddlelam sedivy! By the way, I don't own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Ok, here's the chapter that SHOULD have gone before the last one I posted, but just bear with me, ok? Ok. I already have the next chapter written, so when I get... five reviews I'll update. Ok? Ok. I'm not having a good day, so bear with me here. This one is all Leigh, for once, but the next one is gonna be all about Jaden again. Alrighty, this one is nice and long for ya! Enjoy!

Shadowed Horizon

Leigh strode along the white streets of Minas Tirith beside her little hobbit friend and their new ally on their way to check on Gandalf's rowdy horse. The sun was still bright above them and the sky was fair. Somehow it seemed difficult to believe that soon this gleaming city would be masked in darkness and under a terrible siege.

When at last they arrived at the stables they found them clean, fresh, and deserted save for Shadowfax. The horse whinnied at the sight of his friends as they stepped into the stable.

"Good morning!" Pippin said cheerfully. "Gandalf will come as soon as he may. He is busy, but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you; and you resting, I hope, after your long labors."

Shadowfax tossed his head and fidgeted, clearly unhappy at being bundled into a narrow stall when he would rather be racing over the open plains. While the horse stamped, Beregond admired him with open wonder.

"He looks as if he were spoiling for a race," he marvelled, "and not newly come from a great journey. Where is his harness? It should be rich and fair."

"None is rich and fair enough for him," Pippin laughed, stroking the steed's muzzle. "He will have none. If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well, no bit, bridle or whip will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have patience. Battle is coming."

Understanding the halfling's words, Shadowfax raised his head and neighed so that the entire building shook and even Beregond covered his ears. Then they left the noble horse behind after checking to ensure that his manger was filled.

As they stepped back into the dazzling sun, they saw another man dressed in the attire of the citadel guard approaching them. Leigh frowned and tilted her head as the man neared them. She certainly didn't remember this bit.

"I seek lady Leigh, the companion of Mithrandir," the messenger announced.

"I am she," Leigh nodded.

"The Lord Denethor requests your presence in his hall, lady," the man said with a slight bow. "He requested as much speed as you are capable of, as well."

"I suppose it would be completely inappropriate to just run, wouldn't it?" Leigh asked Pippin. "Go on without me, Pip, and try to enjoy yourself." Turning back to the guard, she continued. "I shall go with you, I only hope that you can keep up in your armor." With that she set off at an extremely determined pace, more than equaling that of her escort.

There were many things in life that Leigh did not enjoy, things like spiders for instance. However, she would rather be tossed into a pit crawling with black widows than face off with Denethor again. She knew her limits, and she knew that 'Smarter-than-thou' Denethor were stretch them as far as they would go. The only thing she was worried about was possibly leaping forward and trying to strangle him at some point in their conversation. Gandalf would avenge her if she killed herself in frustration. Oh, what would Maylin say?

Once again, she passed into the cold, stone halls until she stood before the doors leading into the throne room, where Denethor undoubtedly awaited her arrival. On their own accord, the doors swung open and Leigh stepped through to face the raging storm a lunatic Steward.

"I see that whatever other faults you may have, tardiness is not one of them," the Steward commented.

"If you don't mind my asking, _sir,_ why exactly did you send for me?" Leigh asked.

"We had little time to speak earlier, with Mithrandir acting as a shield," Denethor said dryly, "and there is more I would discuss with you."

"Well," Leigh held out her arms, "here I stand."

Denethor shifted in his tiny throne and raised his head, so that he was effectually staring down his nose at the young woman before him.

"So," he began, "you all claim that my son still lives, and that your hands have not shed his blood."

"Yes," Leigh answered flatly.

"Then how do you explain a dream sent by the Valar that revealed you clubbing my son?" Denethor demanded.

For about a split second, Leigh's eyes got really big. Then her common sense kicked back in.

"It was Faramir who had the dream, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Answer my question first," Denethor commanded.

Leigh's eyes skipped over the looming arches along the walls as she thought out her answer.

"There was an archer taking aim at him," she said slowly. "Had the Uruks gotten close enough to him, they would have slain him. I protected Boromir in the only way I knew how."

"By attacking him?"

"We both know that your son is as stubborn as he is honorable, sir," Leigh replied, slightly distracted by fonder memories of the warrior. "He would never have left a girl and two halflings to fend for themselves against a large force of Uruk-Hai."

For a moment at the mention of his son's courage and loyalty, Denethor's eyes softened and his gaze drifted away to see his beloved child. As soon as the moment came, it passed, and the cold, hard ruler had returned with the glinting look of a snake.

"I believe your tale, lady," Denethor said airily. "However, you still do not carry the favor of the White Tower."

"I did not ask for it," Leigh quipped. "But out of curiosity, what else have I done to so mightily offend you?"

"This you know better than any other," Denethor sneered, rising from his chair. "I am neither blind nor deaf, child, and I have learned far more than even that meddling wizard may have guessed from the story your small friend told me. You have sought to bewitch my son and steal him from me."

Leigh couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. "Is that what you think?" Leigh gasped. "I never sought to 'bewitch' anyone, I don't even know how, and nor do I want to! So you think I'm some sort of witch, eh? Sorry to break it to you, but I'm no more than the average commoner in your kingdom when it comes to talents in witchcraft or society status. I'm a typical girl, one with an attitude, granted, and one who fights in battles, but certainly not a witch. And why on earth would I _want_ to 'steal' Boromir, anyway?"

"Are not all women witches?" Denethor smirked triumphantly. "Does not even the lowest peasant girl have the ability to lull a man out of his senses and away from his duty? I speak not of the sorcery of the Dark Lord, but of the witchcraft of love."

Leigh was shocked into silence. The first coherent thought to come into her head was 'crud'. So, the great and powerful Steward had figured out just who had been the focus of his son's attentions during the quest. While it probably wouldn't change anything in the long run, it would most likely make things for the rest of her stay there a bit sticky to say the least.

Smirking in victory, Denethor returned to his seat and reclined against the ebony back.

"So you do not deny that you harbor feelings for my son?" he asked.

"I do not deny that I did," Leigh replied. "However, I am not so certain to hold any now, not since a few days ago."

"That is well," Denethor said, starting to turn towards other matters. "Warriors, as queer as they may be, are greatly needed in this time of war, and Boromir needs no distractions. What's more, it would be a pity for any young woman to have her heart broken. You may leave."

As Leigh turned and walked back towards the great double doors leading out of the icy hall, she felt something freeze deep inside of her. She now faced a choice: did she or did she not love Boromir? Equally important was the question of his regard for her. Had he truly only meant to use her as a weapon from the start, or was it deeper than that? Never before had she felt so confused. Her heart screamed one thing and her head shouted another.

"One last question," the Steward called down the narrow hall. "Did my son return your feelings?" While he tried to make the question sound casual, Leigh knew better and heard the edge in his voice.

She paused before the open door, and without turning again replied, "Yes. He did." Then she went on and passed out of Denethor's sight.

.O.O.O.

Leigh found herself on the edge of the battlements that thrust out from the courtyard in the highest level of the city. Below her, the Pelennor stretched out to the banks of the Great River which wound away into the distance like a glittering blue ribbon. To the East the black mountains bordering Mordor stood out against a red sky streaked with black. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the harsh glare of the White City, and this made the ominous shadow of Mordor all the darker.

"It is strange," Gandalf mused as he came up behind her, "how such evil can reside so near to a beacon of light and still prosper."

"You didn't come to talk to me about Mordor, Gandalf," Leigh replied, not looking away from the view.

"No," Gandalf sighed. "I did not. Word reached me that Denethor summoned you."

"Yes."

"I also heard, that the meeting did not go well," he continued. "They say that the Steward was in a rage for nearly an hour before sensible council could be taken with him again. One must wonder what exactly was said to evoke such a response."

"I simply answered his question," Leigh shrugged. "If he didn't want to hear the answer, he shouldn't have asked."

Gandalf chuckled and came to stand beside the girl.

"What concerns me more, is how well you responded," the wizard said. "The subject of Boromir was brought up, if I understand correctly."

Leigh didn't respond, she simply leaned farther out against the rock wall she was leaning on, too troubled to answer.

From his place beside her, Gandalf sighed deeply and placed his worn, calloused hand on her shoulder.

"He has wounded you deeply, I know, but I personally still hold out hope for him," the old wizard told her. "Ultimately, it will be your decision that breaks or mends your love, but I am afraid that there is little time now for you to dwell on such things. Little time is left before I shall need you by my side both night and day. We have few defenses against the armies marching against us, but our soldiers need as much hope as they can be given. You are hope to them, Leigh. With your permission, I would like to announce to the citizens of Minas Tirith the truth, at least in part, concerning you and the other members of the Four."

"You have my permission," Leigh said tiredly. "What else do you need from me?"

"I need your sword, your presence along with me in the battle," Gandalf said slowly. "You have already given much, but I now need a little of your council as well as your elvish blade. However, if you do not feel that you can lead..."

"I will stand by your side, Gandalf," Leigh said, finally turning around and looking into the weathered eyes of her dear friend. "You have known my friends and I nearly from the beginning of this whole adventure, helping in this fight is the least I can do."

"Good," Gandalf smiled. "I would ask that you accompany me to the council I now go to, as a display of support if nothing else."

"Alright," Leigh nodded.

They turned and walked back to the Citadel together, drawing on each other's strength for the long storm that hung on the edge of the horizon. A dangerous path had been laid before them, and they would walk it together to the best of their ability. Undoubtedly, they were a strange pair of saviors: a mighty wizard and a young woman who had fallen from the sky of another world.

.O.O.O.

The rest of the day passed with Leigh standing on the edges of the men taking council in a small, windowless room deep in the Citadel. From time to time, Gandalf would look up at her to ask a question concerning this or that, or just to make sure that she was still standing. Only rarely, though, was her council needed; Gandalf had things well in hand. Of course, the curious and slightly awed soldiers and statesmen who were gathered around the central table occasionally cast her glances out of the corners of their eyes, wondering what great battles she had seen and what one so young was doing riding to war. Some were dubious, some were hopeful, but Leigh met each of their looks with the same, cool stare she had adopted since Denethor's arrows had first hit their mark.

"Leigh," Gandalf said suddenly, looking up from a map of the defenses, "do you know how many are coming from the Outlands to the defense of Minas Tirith?"

"Less than three thousand," she replied grimly. "Tales have reached them of a Dark Fleet, so those peoples situated by the sea or the Great River have sent only those that they can spare. I'm afraid I do not remember details concerning what types of warriors are coming."

"Thank you, Leigh," Gandalf said in a dry voice.

Then the discussion continued, the advisers now looking far less uncertainly and much more admiringly towards the brooding woman in the shadows.

At long last the session ended and captains went scurrying off to inform their troops of the latest developments while the statesmen and higher ranking officers murmured among themselves or carried word to their lord Denethor, who had not attended the council but had dealt with other matters in the Hall.

Once he had finished ordering something to a young military commander, Gandalf turned his attention back to his young friend.

"You must go now and find food and drink, Leigh, for the hour is late" Gandalf commanded kindly. "You are not as seasoned as these other hardened men, and you need both sustenance and sleep. Perhaps you will even be able to lay your hands on that wily hobbit that was set lose to terrorize Minas Tirith."

Leigh was tired, and she was very, very hungry, having missed both breakfast and lunch. Once she had gotten directions from a kindly looking soldier, she walked out of the stone building and headed towards the mess, where she hoped to run into at least Pippin if not Beregond. Not many were still out by this time of night, and singing came from the open windows of the guards' houses.

'Let them enjoy themselves,' Leigh thought wearily. 'This may be one of the last nights they have to live before the Shadow takes them.'

It was in this bleak state of mind that she finally stumbled upon the mess, which was still crowded with soldiers making merry and enjoying their hard earned dinners. A few took notice of her entry, turning their heads to see who the stranger was, but most did not see her slip in from the darkness outside. Pippin was the first to see her, and a happy light lit in his tired eyes at the sight of her coming towards him. Quickly, he pointed her out to Beregond who swiftly rose from his seat and organized his fellows to make room for her at the table, sitting again once she had taken a seat.

"Hullo again, Leigh!" Pippin said happily. Then he cocked his head and examined her again. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "You look..._grey_, worn, almost like old Gandalf."

Leigh simply shrugged and quickly changed the subject. "How did your day with Bergil go, Pip?"

"How did you...? Oh, fiddlesticks, never mind," Pippin sighed.

"Mithrandir has spread word of you among the troops," Beregond said in a hushed voice. "Is it true what he says, that you know of the future?"

"It is true, at least to some extent," Leigh replied. "I am no fortuneteller, but I am... privy to certain things that you are not."

"Then it is an even greater honor to have you dining with the Third Company, my lady!" Beregond cried.

"It just as great an honor for me," Leigh smiled. "However, I think I would appreciate it more if I had something to eat."

"Good heavens!" Pippin cried. "I'd clean forgotten! You haven't had _anything_ to eat all _day_, have you?"

"Nope," Leigh replied as she snatched at a slice of hearty bread. "Gandalf wanted me with him."

"Does this mean that you won't be able to go around with me tomorrow?" Pippin asked sorrowfully.

"First of all," Leigh raised her eyebrows, "you will have duties of your own tomorrow, and secondly, no, I will most likely be too busy."

"Then you do intend to fight with us when the Enemy attacks?" Beregond asked with a pale face.

"I've fought in battles before," Leigh told him. "There's really no point in hiding if you think about it, and I'm not half bad with a sword, anyways."

"Believe her," Pippin whispered loudly. "I've seen her with that thing!"

Soon nearly all of the men in the room were talking about, or talking to Leigh and Pippin. In the blink of an eye they had become local celebrities, and neither one was entirely comfortable with it. They soon honestly claimed fatigue and retired to their room which they shared with Gandalf.

Pippin dropped off like a little rock, but Leigh found that sleep evaded her. For several hours she tossed and turned in her tiny alcove, giving up at last and getting up to wait for Gandalf by the windows. Even when the ancient wizard returned, Leigh kept her post by the window as he paced back and forth across the room.

"When will Faramir return?" he muttered as the candlelight blinked over the many rolls of parchment he had set on the table.

"Soon," Leigh replied in her calm new voice.

"Hullo!" Pippin said as he stuck his head out from around his curtain. "I thought you had forgotten all about me. I am glad to see you back. It has been a long day."

"But the night will be too short," Gandalf foretold darkly. "You should sleep, in a bed while you still may. At the sunrise I shall take you to the Lord Denethor again. No, when the summons comes, not at sunrise. The Darkness has begun. There will be no dawn. And you, Leigh, at that time I shall rouse you to accompany me again. Rest now, though, while there is still time. I do not know when there will time enough to sleep again."

Leigh nodded and returned to her bed, managing to sleep for the rest of the night.

.O.O.O.

As he slept far away, Boromir dreamed.

In his dream he saw the gleaming walls of his city fall under a shadow and the bravest of soldiers quaked in fear. The tallest towers cowered down and their banners fell slack, hanging limply against their staffs. Hope had died and with its leaving came a new presence to fill the hearts of his people: fear. Every stone breathed it and the brave sons of Gondor looked up to the shadowy sky with terror.

Amidst this dark threat stood a young woman girt with a sword and dressed in armor. At a second glance, Boromir saw it to be Leigh, but tired and wearied beyond her years. Her hair was stained with black blood and her eyes were pained and dull. Somehow, she seemed to have fallen into the decay that the White City had endured for so many years.

For an instant, her ghost eyes looked up and met his and the light of hope dawned in them.

As quickly as the dream had come it melted away, leaving Boromir awake and troubled.

A/N: Was that end bit cheesy? I think it might have been a bit cheesy. My beta and I have some e-mail difficulties, so she didn't get a shot at this one... Um... tell me what YOU think! I love to hear from you, and you guys just make my day! Thanks, and when you review say... 'joust.' Thanks and don't forget to review!


	52. Purposes Revealed

Disclaimer: Let me see what am I supposed to put here?... Oh yes. I don't own The Lord of the Rings. Done.

A/N: I am spoiling you people, really I am. Oh well... Too bad, so sad. Another fairly long one for you, and... it's all about JADEN! Sigh I went to the local Renaissance Festival with weekend with a buddy of mine... I wanna go baaack! Sobs

Purposes Revealed

The Tower of Cirith Ungol might contain nothing but dead Orcs, two frightened hobbits, and one terrified teenager, but it still retained its fearful malice. With every step the three friends took down the spiral stairway they felt the terror dripping from the stones and oozing through the gaping cracks. The quaint tower room they had left behind began to seem friendly and cozy in comparison with the rest of the fortress. When at last they broke out into the courtyard and the eternal, dull glare of Mordor, they came upon a new enemy... or rather a pair of them.

In the gateway sat the strange, terrible, and immovable Watchers. They were two twisted and evil figures each formed in the shape of three joined bodies, with vulture heads and claws lying on their knees. They guarded the Tower in eternal vigilance, forbidding anything of the light to enter... or leave. Jaden shuddered as she felt their will bent against her, making an almost physical barrier before her. With every fiber of her body she wanted to turn around and run back into the dark watchtower and all the way up the stairs to that accursed little room. Sam had beaten them on his way in with the Phial of Galadriel, but it was far easier to get in than to get out, and the Two Watchers were angry.

By the time they had pressed forward to the gateway, Frodo had collapsed to the ground, and was fighting to not slip into a dead faint.

"I can't go on, Sam," he murmured. "I'm going to faint. I don't know what's come over me."

"I do, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied stoutly. "Hold up now! It's the gate. There's some devilry there. But I got through, and I'm going to get out. It can't be more dangerous than before. Now for it!"

Then Sam drew the elven-glass from his pocket and raised it on high as he had when he had fought past the Watchers the first time. As if honoring the rough little hand that held it, the light blazed forth and chased away the shadows in the courtyard and under the gate, but the Watchers were ready this time and their will could not be so easily defeated.

"_Gilthoniel, A Elbereth!_" Sam shouted. For reasons he did not know or understand, his thoughts were pulled back to long ago, when he had seen the Elves in the forest back in the Shire.

"_Aiya elenion ancalima!_" Frodo and Jaden cried from behind him, moved by a strange passion to cry out against the darkness.

In that instant, the will of the Watchers was broken and the three stumbled forward through the archway. Then they ran. As they dashed past the seated statues with their cold, glittering eyes, a crack split the air. Just moments after they had reached safety, the entire gateway came crashing down in a heap of dark rubble. A bell began clanging in the Tower, and from the Watchers rose a terrible wail that rent the air. Their cry was answered. A black shape swooped down from the clouds and gave a ghastly shriek.

Jaden crouched down on her heels and tucked her arms over her head as the Black Rider wheeled down high above her. After all she had seen, the terrible shriek of the Nazgul still terrified her beyond words. Her heart pounded in irregular convulsions and her breath shook and rattled between her teeth. Luckily, Sam still had a bit of his wits left and quickly put away the phial.

"Run, Mr. Frodo!" he shouted. "No, not that way! There's a sheer drop over the wall. Follow me!"

Forcing her icy limbs to move, Jaden floundered unsteadily behind her small guide, using every bit of mettle she possessed to stay upright and moving. Within moments they had gone around a rocky corner in the path and were safely out of sight from the Tower. The Nazgul's cries, however, echoed off the cliffs and resonated in the fugitives' ears.

Together, they hurried on through the red glare and pressed on towards their dreaded destination. The rocks were jagged and cruel to Jaden's feet, covered only in the thin, Elven boots, but she hardly noticed as the fear of orcs coming to the aid of Cirith Ungol clenched in her gut. Thus far there had been no opportunity to leave the road, and it would be more than suspicious if a company of orcs spotted them running in the opposite direction of the summons. All three were nervous and strained, looking for a way to escape off of the road. At last an opportunity presented itself just as the sound of iron-shod feet came drifting towards them.

They now stood before a bridge and the sounds of the orc-company was drawing near. The deepness of the gorge had shallowed, and they had no other choice. Once they had scrambled to the edge of the lowest parapet of the bridge and readied themselves for the fall, Jaden remembered that once upon a time she had been slightly afraid of heights. What bothered her now was that it was too dark to see where they would land.

"Well, here goes, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "Goodbye!" He let go, and the others followed.

Even as they plummeted down, the ringing of hooves and feet on the bridge above them rattled in their ears. Jaden distantly remembered this part in the book. Sam had been afraid of suffering a rough landing on the rocks, but instead they all landed in thorn bushes. The old, dry bushes broke her fall easily but with a painful price. Evidently the thorns of Mordor were longer and probably sharper than the common variety. By the time she stopped rolling, Jaden knew that she had suffered at least three gashes and a goodly number of deep scratches. One such scratch was along her hand, and she could feel the blood starting to trickle from the wound.

Once the sound of pounding steps had faded, Sam ventured a whisper.

"Bless me, Mr. Frodo, but I didn't know anything grew in Mordor! These thorns must be a foot long by the feel of them; they've stuck though everything I've got on. With I'd a'put that mailshirt on!"

"Orc-mail doesn't keep these thorns out," Frodo replied. "Not even a leather jerkin is any good."

"I wish my elvish mail worked," Jaden sighed, actually pulling a barb free from her side. "Ouch."

By the time they had fought free of the both blessed and accursed thicket, their cloaks were in tatters and several more gashes and scrapes had materialized on their arms and legs. The remnants of the Fellowship fought onwards, though, and were soon walking along the valley floor in their funny armor and bleeding cuts. Somewhere far to the west the sun rose once more to bring morning to the fertile earth, but in Mordor the night prevailed and the choking blackness in the valley remained. The whole of Mordor was hard and dead, even the air held deathly still. No breeze brought relief to the heat in the valley, and soon the three were parched with a thirst echoed by the land around them.

They stopped after a while and rested with their backs to a great boulder. After the events of the day, they needed a few moments at least to catch their breath.

"If Shagrat himself was to offer me a glass of water, I'd shake his hand," Sam reported in a raspy voice ravaged by thirst.

"Don't say such things!" Frodo exclaimed. "It only makes it worse."

Frodo stretched out then and let his body regain a little bit of its stamina before they pressed on. Next to him, Jaden's eyes were half-closed but alert. As Sam dropped off beside her, the teen forced herself to remember why she was in that horrible place, why she had voluntarily joined with these little hobbits when she could be snuggled away someplace safe, like Rivendell. 'Yes,' she thought, 'remember Rivendell. Remember Lothlorien, remember what you're fighting for.' It was a queer fight, really. Sam had killed only a handful of Orcs in the Tower, as well as Shelob, but they had done hardly any fighting thus far. Sneak and scamper was their way. No open battle or direct confrontation, not even the Ithillien Rangers' sort of fighting. They just hid and ran, bearing the one thing that could end this awful darkness forever.

With a struggle, Frodo rose beside her, and he quickly set to waking up his faithful companion.

"Wake up, Sam!" he ordered. "Come on! It's time we made another effort."

"Well I never!" Sam floundered. "I must have dropped off. It's a long time, Mr. Frodo, since I had a proper sleep, and my eyes just closed down on their own."

Frodo led the way for a time, but he soon stopped, and after a brief disagreement with Sam, shed his heavy mail. Sam rapidly offered him his elven cloak, which Frodo accepted without complaint and wrapped himself in against the sudden chill that had descended. On they went for a little longer, Jaden beginning to feel the cold Frodo had shuddered from. It wasn't a natural cold, like the chill of white snow and crystal ice ('Oh! Don't think of water!'). Instead it was like a black silence that intruded on a still summer's night and silenced the crickets in the grass and the owls in the trees. It was like a slow, seeping poison that slipped inside of your lungs and froze you literally to the bone. 'I hate this place,' Jaden thought suddenly.

Suddenly, Frodo stopped again and looked up towards the shrouded sky.

"There is a Black Rider above us, I can feel it," he informed them. With a sick twist in her stomach, Jaden realized that she could as well. The feeling was like an icy mist on her skin, a distant scream in her ears and a tinge of deeper blackness before her eyes. "We had better keep still for a while."

Neither Jaden nor Sam argued, and soon they were all crouched under the shelter of a boulder. None of them spoke for some time, and then Frodo gave a sigh of relief.

"It's passed," he said, although Jaden had also felt it diminish and fade.

Then, as they stood up, a new wonder and joy was revealed to their tired eyes. Away to the west, over the spiked shadows of the mountains, the heavy veil of cloud was being swept away. The winds of the living world were sweeping the dark mass away back to the land of its origin, and sunlight trickled in through its edges, like light through a grimy window in a prison.

"Look at it, Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried joyfully. "Look at it! The wind's changed. Something's happening. I wish I could see what's going on!"

"A battle," Jaden replied, distracted by the glorious light and thoughts of her friends. "A great battle. I think my friends are there."

"What did I tell you?" Sam cheered. "Something's happening! Things are looking up, Mr. Frodo. Haven't you got some hope now?"

"Well no, not much, Sam," Frodo sighed. "That's away beyond the mountains. We're going east not west. And I'm so tired, and the Ring is so heavy, Sam. I am beginning to see it in my mind all the time, like a great wheel of fire."

"Come, Mr. Frodo!" Sam said, taking his master's hand. "Try a bit further, and then we'll lie down and have a rest. But take a morsel to eat now, a bit of the Elves' food; it may hearten you."

They ate a little of the wafers as well as they could with their dry mouths, and went on their way. Soon they were back on a regular and well-used track which, while dangerous, would bring them to Mount Doom much faster than scrambling among the rocks, and Frodo was fading.

While the light did not grow stronger and remained like grey dusk, another bit of luck happened upon them. Crossing their path was a thin stream of water.

"Light and now water!" Sam exclaimed in glee as he bounded forward. Then he suddenly stopped and looked back. "Let me drink first, Mr. Frodo," he requested.

"All right, but there's room enough for two," Frodo pointed out.

"I didn't mean that," Sam replied. "I mean: if it's poisonous, or something that will show its badness quick, well, better me than you, master, if you understand me."

"I do. But I think we'll trust out luck together, Sam; or our blessing," his master nodded.

Jaden swiftly moved to kneel besdie Samwise and swallowed mouthful after glorious mouthful. Even though in any other place in Middle-Earth the water would have been regarded as too foul to even step in, to the thirsty travelers it was like the purest drink in the world served in a silver bowl. Sam filled their only remaining water skin (the orcs had slashed Frodo's and Jaden's) from the stream and they all turned to face their next challenge.

They climbed up the side of the rock wall beside them and began looking for a place to settle down for a wink or two of sleep. On their way, they found more of their spiky friends the thorn bushes. Dead leaves that had withered a year ago hissed like a dead rattle whenever they were bumped or blown. A few buds were just starting to open, but these were crawling with maggots and great, black flies that swarmed and stung. At last they stopped and had a bit of the food from Faramir that Sam still had in his pack. The _lembas_ were best saved for darker days. Sheltered by one of the loathsome excuses for a bush, Jaden soon dropped off with some encouragement from faithful Sam.

By now Jaden was getting the feeling of being the fifth wheel on their little expedition and she wished with all of her heart that she had stayed back in Rivendell, where it was safe and no flies bit you. She had been a fool to think that she could help them. All she was doing now was eating portions of the precious food needed to reach Mount Doom. Why, oh, why had she come? She might have been useful somewhere else, but in Mordor she was nothing but a liability. Stupid, stupid Jaden.

The next day was unpleasant to say the least, they went the wrong way and had to backtrack to get where they wanted to go. What's more, while hiding from two orcs on the road, they gathered the news that everyone's favorite vagabond was still on the loose, and not even the orcs could catch him. Sam had eyed Frodo nervously, obviously thinking back to that mail Frodo had dumped so far back. It might have done him some good in the end.

A close call came when next they stopped. Sam had gone a little ways ahead to find some water, leaving Frodo and Jaden behind to rest. Even in times of mortal peril he was a chivalrous little man. Jaden was tired, so tired she could barely stay awake long enough for Sam to return with the water, but she thought it best to be vigilant. Her guard paid off, and she spotted two round orbs bobbing around the rocks.

"Gollum," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Frodo asked, looking up.

"Gollum's in those rocks over there," Jaden indicated. "Don't worry, he's not stupid, he knows I see him. He won't try anything right now. Best stay on your toes, though."

"I would if I could," Frodo smiled wryly.

On a sudden impulse, Jaden threw her arms around her little friend and kissed the top of his curly hair as Galadriel had in Lothlorien.

"May I ask what that was for?" Frodo asked in slight amusement.

"I'm not sure," Jaden frowned. "Instinct, like I needed to, or it was my last chance or something."

"You are a good friend, Jaden," Frodo told her. "Strange, but good."

"Thanks," Jaden smiled wearily.

"That Gollum's about again, I'm afraid, Mr. Frodo," Sam reported as he appeared with a glistening water bottle. "Here, drink your fill, the both of you. We can fill it again when we go on."

"Yes," Frodo nodded. "Jaden saw him as well. Bless you, Sam!" After taking a swig from the bottle, Frodo continued, "I'd rather have Gollum than orcs. At any rate he won't give us away to them -unless he's caught."

"But he might do a bit of robbery and murder on his own," Sam growled. "Keep your eyes open, Mr. Frodo!" And with that, Sam flopped over and was asleep.

When he woke up again, both Jaden and his master had fallen asleep and the light had gone down back into the typical black of Mordor. The water bottle was drained and there was no sign of Gollum.

They now faced a perilous path. This was often traveled, and there were many campfires nearby, evidence of an army camping nearby. For a good while all was well, for about twelve miles. However, as they rose from a brief rest and headed on again, they heard the sound they had secretly dreaded all along: the sound of marching footsteps. Frodo looked around them, almost in panic. On one side of the road there was a sheer wall of rock that could not be climbed, and on the other was a deep, dark pit that they daren't try.

"I feared it, Sam," Frodo said. "We've trusted to luck, and it has failed us. We're trapped. We're trapped at last!"

"Seems so," Sam agreed. "Well, we can but wait and see." Then they all sat down against the wall of the cliff.

The orcs did not keep them waiting long. Soon they came marching and swaying into sight, moving as fast as they could under threat of the lash. For a little while, it seemed that they were going to simply pass by and the three could go on, unnoticed. But luck was still against them. One of the two slave-drivers herding the long file of smaller orcs spotted the three figures huddled against the wall and shouted.

"Hi, you! Get up!" he bellowed. When they did not respond he halted the entire company and came down on them. "Come on, you slugs!" he roared. "This is no time for slouching. Deserting, eh? Or thinking of it? Up you get and fall in, or I'll have your numbers and report you."

Obediently, they hurried to the back of the column, only to be ordered several rows forward to keep them from sneaking off. They ran on at an unhuman pace surrounded by their foes for several good miles. The whip-wielder often popped back to them, taunting them and snapping his last at their legs to encourage speed. Just when her legs felt like they were going to give out, Jaden saw the crossroads where the other company was supposed to come and distract the orcs long enough for them to escape... except there was no other company. Why weren't they there? Something had happened, someone had done something, or not done something, and fate had been altered just a little bit, enough to place Frodo and Sam in a real pickle. Of course, Jaden was the only one who knew this, and Frodo and Sam had both long stopped thinking of her as knowing the future. It hadn't even crossed their minds yet.

Swiftly, a plot molded in Jaden's mind, a foolhardy plan, but one that would give Frodo and Sam their chance. She reached out and snatched the edge of Sam's cloak, dragging him close to hiss in his ear.

"Run," she ordered. Sam looked at her in bewildered confusion. Slowly, as Jaden began drawing her orc blade, a look of horrified understanding dawned in his face. "Run."

Before the little hobbit could stop her, Jaden lunged over into one of the larger orcs who was about her size and began shouting in a gravely voice that would have done her thespian friends proud.

"Keep your feet off of mine, you great slug!" she roared, trying to get a good hack in. The other orcs began crowding around, cheering for a fight as Jaden came to blows with the brutish orc she had assaulted. 'You could have picked a smaller one,' she thought to herself wryly as the creature bellowed and charged her. Glorfindel's lessons had never been more appreciated, and she soon gained the upper hand. Just as she moved to deliver the death stroke, the two slave-drivers broke through the crowd and separated the two combatants.

By the end of it all, Jaden had a bloody lip, a massive bruise on her left cheek and five stripes on her back, but she smiled through the blood in her mouth as she surveyed the ranks around her. Frodo and Sam had escaped.

A/N: Mwahahahahaha! And thus my hand is tipped. The next chapter will, I believe be focused on Leigh... Yeah, that's right. REVIEW! It makes me happy and sparks my muse. Say 'cool knight' if you have read my author's notes! Thanks!


	53. River Red

Disclaimer: I own the pop I am drinking... that's about it; definitely not the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Hi! Another Leigh chappie! I've got a bone to pick with you: only two people reviewed my last chapter. Taps toe Did you all die, or something? It takes, what, two minutes, to write a review? Hello! Review, PLEASE! This one's really long, so I hope you are appreciative!

River Red

Leigh awoke to Gandalf's gentle shaking. Barely cracking one eye open, she saw that the room was lit by candles, although it should have been early morning this time. Red light ought to be pouring in through the windows, but instead only a distant, grey twilight glimmered through the heavy curtain drawn across the sky.

"It is nearly the first hour," Gandalf informed her. "I wish for you to go and see to the troops on the walls. Your presence alone shall suffice. It is far better for you to be put to good use there instead of being the object of the Lord Denethor's hate and malice."

"Alright," Leigh groaned, sitting up. She had not slept well, but had been tormented by dark dreams through the night, and now she found herself wearier than when she had first lied down to sleep. From the look on Gandalf's face, it was rather obvious. "I will be fine, Gandalf," she reassured him.

"You shall need to be better than 'fine' to survive the ordeal ahead of us," Gandalf informed her gently. "I have few tools, and you are the most reliable by far. These people need a strong presence to stand by them, and I fear that I cannot be everywhere at once."

"I understand," Leigh told the wizard as she slipped on her cloak and walked to where food was set on the table. There was only a single, small loaf to eat with a minuscule pat of butter and a cup of thin milk. However, after all Leigh had been through, this seemed like quite a normal meal, and the butter was a luxury. As she ate, a thought dawned on her.

"Do you know why Denethor hates me so much?" she asked suddenly. "Not counting the fact that I'm annoying."

Gandalf paused and stared at the ceiling as he turned over the question.

"He fears you," the white wizard said at length. "He fears your knowledge of things he does not know or understand, and he fears that you will steal his precious son from him."

"Well," Leigh said heavily, leaving the table and buckling on Nolemacil, her faithful companion, "he's probably safe from the latter of those. I have a feeling that I will not live past the end of this battle."

"Do not speak such things," Gandalf ordered sharply. "They merely tempt fate, and I would be deeply grieved to lose you."

"I'll try," Leigh said simply. "Will you come and find me when you need me?"

"In a manner," Gandalf replied. "I may come down myself to the battlements, and I shall find you there. But now you must go on without me, it will be many hours before I join you, and I must first wake our young friend and take him with me when the summons comes from the Steward."

"I understand," Leigh nodded. "Then I shall see you when I see you."

She then turned and walked out of the building which had become their home away from home. The levels of Minas Tirith were well designed to keep out an attacking enemy, but they also made life quite a bit more difficult for any other poor soul that was simply trying to reach the gate. Leigh was fully aware of how she must look to the soldiers passing her in the streets: every bit the warrior and mystic Gandalf had made her out to be. A part of her mind screamed happily that these were Boromir's people, that she was seeing and walking through his home, but the cold state that she had slipped into had frozen her face and spirit. She could no longer simply enjoy the sights, she had to do Gandalf's bidding and silently encourage the warriors and play the part of the mysterious but powerful stranger. While Gandalf inspired the soldiers through familiar strength and proven ability, Leigh was now sent to inspire them through hope for the unfamiliar and strange.

As Leigh stepped up the pale stairs and onto the white battlements, she felt the eyes of the Gondorian soldiers gather on her. The cloak she had been given in Lorien still hung on her shoulders, and she still walked in Maylin's borrowed clothing, which had come with her from Rivendell. How strange she must look. While Maylin and even the new, older Jack could pull off the Elven look, graceful and wise, there was a sharp tang of humanity about Leigh that had always stood separate and proud from the others around her. Golden hair was also a rarity in Gondor, so she must really be a sight; a woman, dressed as a man, but in Elvish garb with a slim sword hung from her side. This was not the typical afternoon view in Minas Tirith.

Leigh's cool, steady gaze went from man to man as she began to move down the wall, nodding to a soldier here, examining the distant walls of Mordor there. It was like being stuck in a repetitive dream that wouldn't stop. It didn't take long for word to spread down the ranks that The Lady, as they were beginning to call her, was coming along the wall. For many hours, she paraded around among them, holding her head high and looking every man in the eye.

Whispers began to reach her concerning herself. Some said that she was an Elf in disguise, but these were soon squashed by the other soldiers, pointing out her clear humanity. All already thought of her as Gandalf's companion and close ally, but none knew her full history, and thus rumors circulated freely. At last, one man murmured to his friend as Leigh passed by that, surely, one who knew the future would not come to a place condemned to certain and utter doom. Leigh stopped suddenly and turned her face to the frightened soldier. And then she did something she had not done for some time. She smiled at him, thanking him and praising him in one look. For a minute the man was thunderstruck, but he quickly straightened and lifted his chin proudly, knowing that he had just been given great praise. Before any of the men found their tongues again, Leigh pressed on.

By the eleventh hour, Leigh was growing impatient, looking and waiting for Gandalf. He needed to get a move on if he wanted to get on Shadowfax, ride all the way through the city, and save Faramir within a few minutes. What was more, she wanted to go with him. Her place was on the battlefield, she knew that and so did he. That would also be the best way to earn the men's respect and trust.

As if on cue, the tired wizard came marching towards her, swinging his long, white staff as he came.

"Gandalf," Leigh said quickly before he could even open his mouth in greeting, "we must prepare to ride."

"Why?" Gandalf asked, searching her face.

"Faramir fights a losing battle, and he will soon flee across the Pelennor with the remnants of his men, but he will need you," Leigh said in an even tone, making sure that no soldier overheard her.

The expression on Gandalf's face shifted from joy, to concern, to fear, to determination.

"Another errand rider returned in this night past," Gandalf informed her as he led the way down from the battlements and back towards the citadel. "You may ride that horse into the field."

Leigh nodded but spoke no word, focusing on moving swiftly through the convoluted route to the stables. When they walked briskly into the stables, Shadowfax split the air with a wild neigh, sensing the approaching action. In a stall farther down the row, a young stallion the color of freshly turned earth waited patiently, eyeing the new arrivals with a curious eye.

"How much time do we have?" Gandalf asked quickly as he ran his hands over Shadowfax.

"Enough," Leigh replied simply.

"As ever, your gift for vague comments is astonishing," Gandalf muttered gruffly.

Leigh's hands were a little clumsy, but still quick, as she saddled the second stallion and bridled him. Thankfully, the horse had a good disposition and did not seem to mind the stranger preparing him for another ride.

"Will you be able to keep him under control?" Gandalf asked, nodding towards the horse.

"I will," Leigh answered flatly.

"I am beginning to see, Leigh, leader of the Four, that you are capable of doing anything that aids you in achieving the desired ends," Gandalf commented.

"Jaden learned that a long time ago," Leigh said breathlessly as she boosted herself up and into the saddle. "Let's get started."

Gandalf mercifully kept Shadowfax well below his maximum speeds to allow Leigh's mount to keep up and stay near him. Nonetheless, the tiered walls rushed by with almost alarming speed, and Leigh vaguely wondered where she had found the nerve to ride out on a horse when Nazgul were about to descend on them.

A shattering shriek screeched through the air and a shadow fell on the hearts of the riders as they thundered down towards the gates. Running too fast to halt, Leigh's stallion tossed his head and screamed as he was driven onwards.

"Stay with me, friend," Leigh murmured to her steed. "Your captain needs you."

Gandalf shouted ahead of them as they neared the gates, and by the time they reached the entrance, the great doors had been swung apart wide enough for them to pass through. Leigh could now see the black monsters swooping and dipping towards the field, attacking the helpless warriors below. Beside her, a white light blazed forth like the light from the silver moon, but much brighter. Now the Nazgul were aware of them, and one was flying towards the riders to confront them. Raising his hand, Gandalf shot a beam of his pearly light that stabbed upwards towards the fell beast and both creature and rider turned and flew away with a pained cry. Knowing that, for now, they had been foiled, the other Black Riders rose up from the Pelennor and spiraled away to the other side of the river.

The only rider among the fleeing company who had not been thrown from his mount now came towards them and halted to wait for his men. Gandalf reached him first while Leigh approached with less haste, murmuring thanks to her sweating horse for his mettle and stability in the face of such terrible evil. When at last she reached the two men, it took a moment for Faramir, he who had kept his seat, to notice her, and even then he seemed to think that his eyes belied him.

"Captain Faramir," Gandalf said, seeing Leigh from the corner of his eye, "I present to you lady Leigh, a..."

"You are one of the three others lady Jaden spoke of," Faramir interrupted, not averting his gaze from the strange girl before him.

"She is still alive then?" Leigh breathed, some small spark of life returning to her.

"Alive and well when last I saw her," Faramir nodded. "As were her companions."

"There shall be time enough to discuss such matters in a more fitting place," Gandalf told, or rather ordered, them both. Leigh, however, did not fail to catch the apprehensively excited light in his eyes.

"You are right, Mithrandir," Faramir bowed his head. "For now we must be sure to bring my men safely to the gates of the White City."

Halfway back to the city, a small army of those who had watched the skirmish from the walls came flocking out to meet them and usher them back to safety. By the time they had passed through the gate, Leigh was receiving strange looks from Faramir's men, and she was quite sure that they would be filled in concerning her the moment the excitement had died down. They cantered up through the scattered gateways leading to the Citadel in heavy silence. In his saddle, Faramir drooped from exhaustion, and both Gandalf and Leigh were strained and rushed. When at last they burst through the last gateway, now dismounted, Leigh easily picked out Pippin's higher voice calling from the crowd of men surrounding them, all shouting Faramir's name.

Faramir stopped in his tracks and turned towards the strange voice as well, but his reaction was somewhat different.

"Whence come you?" Faramir asked, puzzled and amazed. "A halfing, and in the livery of the Tower! Whence...?"

"He came with me from the land of the Halflings," Gandalf interrupted swiftly. "But let us not tarry here. There is much to say and do, and you are weary. He shall come with us. Indeed he must, for if he does not forget his new duties more easily than I do, he must attend on his lord again within this hour. Come, Pippin, follow us!"

"Gandalf!" Leigh spoke quickly. Mithrandir paused again and turned towards her. "I would... rather not join in this council."

"I understand," the old wizard nodded. "Meet me by the gates at the hour of dusk. Until then, do as you see fit. This may be the last chance you receive to enjoy a short time alone."

Leigh nodded and turned away quickly, heading back towards the little apartment she had come to think of as 'home' for the moment. The crowd parted before her like waves before the prow of a ship and in only a few minutes Leigh was opening the heavy wooden door to the shared room. The little mess from their breakfast had already been cleared away, and, besides the few bundles and maps spread around the room, it looked as undisturbed as the day they had first walked in. Leigh sighed deeply and slowly pulled her hair loose from its tight braid that had kept it away from her face through the morning. After carefully setting Nolemacil against the wall, she went to the slim window in the featureless wall and leaned her forehead against its cool frame.

All of the gaiety and color had been stripped from the city that swirled down below her, and in their place was left the bare white skeleton of a giant left to bleach in the sun. Perhaps, once upon a time, this city had been truly beautiful, but now beauty had been replaced with practicality and military defenses. Streamers had been stripped from their posts for fear of attracting a fiery missile, and running children had been carted away to make room for the armored soldiers as they marched in shiny ranks towards the city's defenses. The place Boromir had loved and hoped for was a swiftly fading dream, held only in stubborn hearts like his.

Ah, yes, Boromir. Now there was a pretty pickle. Leigh's fingers began to distractedly toy with the gem strung around her neck, the first gift that the Lady Galadriel had given her. Boromir had found it for her again, when she had been captured by the Uruks. She wanted things to be simple like that again, pure, like they had been at the beginning. The feelings between them had not always been tainted by lust for power and mistrust. Could things really smooth themselves out again? Could she live her happy ending?

Leigh's breath shook as she looked away towards the ominous black mountains of Mordor looming in the distance. In her hand, the gem felt smooth and cool, like a pool of turquoise waters. It acted as an anchor against the harsh threat of Sauron, but her heart demanded more than just a pretty necklace.

She would try. If she lived through the coming battle, she would try to gather together her shattered confidence and fight for her love for Boromir. _If_ she lived...

When the hour of dusk came, Leigh was standing by the gate, ready and waiting for her orders from Gandalf, but he did not come. Denethor had most likely kept him by his side where he could keep an eye on him through the entirety of Faramir's report... and the debate afterwards. Faramir was good man, and he would never lie to his Steward, so the beans concerning Frodo, Sam, and Jaden had been spilled on the hard floor of the throne room. She couldn't really bring herself to call Denethor Faramir's father. Once again, Leigh was glad that she had excused herself from that meeting.

Men were beginning to come down from the wall to be replaced by the night's shift. Battle was coming, and fear was clearly written in the soldiers' grey faces. Despite all of Leigh's efforts, and all she had yet to do, nothing could throw off the heavy mantle of hopeless terror that was descending on that city. At least they had Faramir to rally them this one night and the next morning, but then he would be gone again, riding to stare death in the eye at Osgiliath.

Leigh remained faithful to Gandalf's orders and paced around in the courtyard behind the gate for several hours as the last traces of light left and a few torches were lit by the roaming soldiers. From time to time, Leigh went over and spoke with a random foot soldier or archer as they sat and rested before they returned to duty. She gathered what little news she could from them concerning the army's condition, and gave what little word she could of Faramir and the happenings in the Citadel.

Some time after night had engulfed the city, Leigh looked up from her sword which she had been examining to see someone coming towards her from the direction of the next gate up. At first she thought it was Gandalf finally coming to send her on one last errand or call her back to sleep, but once he was closer, Leigh could easily tell that it was the frame of a lithe warrior, and not that of the aged wizard. When he had finally come close enough to see his face, Leigh dipped a hasty little bow in honor of Faramir.

"Is Gandalf not coming, then?" she asked quickly, eager for something, _anything_ to do.

"No," Faramir replied. "I have just come from council with my father, and offered to carry Mithrandir's message to you here at the gates."

"I'm sure he was thrilled about that," Leigh said sarcastically. "You should be resting, should you not?"

"Yes," Faramir smiled, "but I bear another message for you that our common friend entrusted me with."

"Jaden?" Leigh asked, her eyes shooting open.

"Yes," Faramir nodded. Reaching into a pouch hanging from his waist he pulled out a neatly folded package... one that was clearly origami. Leigh was barely able to restrain herself as she swiftly snatched it out of the captain's hands and stared at it with eager eyes.

"There is also," Faramir continued slowly, letting her enjoy her moment, "another matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Yes?" Leigh asked, her excitement affecting her voice.

Faramir lowered his face just a bit to be able to see closer to Leigh's eye-level, and the girl looked up from the precious bundle to look at him again.

"I have... learned... that my brother holds you in high esteem."

"Ah," Leigh blinked, slightly back to her old self at the sight of the letter. "Err... we were, are, might be... crud."

"Something has come between you," Faramir said, his eyes darkening with worry.

"Yeah..." Leigh said slowly, "you could say that. He wanted me to come here with him, actually, and try to 'aid' his people with my knowledge."

Faramir muttered something under his breath that Leigh thought it best not to translate and looked up to the darkened sky. For a moment he stayed like that, but he soon returned his attention to Leigh and gave a grim smile.

"That does sound like him," he admitted.

"If we meet again, I plan to make amends," Leigh informed him. Faramir looked at her with joyful surprise.

"I can understand why he favors you," Faramir smiled. "I pray that you two should be reunited."

"Thank you, lord Faramir," Leigh bowed again. "You said you brought a message from Gandalf?"

"Yes," Faramir snapped back to business, but the glint in his eye remained. "He desires for you to return to the quarters you share and take your rest. Tomorrow he shall need you."

"And here we are talking like little children that should have already gone to bed!" Leigh laughed. Faramir joined her, and a couple men on the wall glanced back inside the courtyard to see what was going on.

"I fear we both should retire now, lady," Faramir told her. "I hope to meet again, and in better times."

"As do I," Leigh replied.

.O.O.O.

Pippin was already asleep when Leigh came in. Gandalf, on the other hand, was waiting up by a single, sputtering candle waiting for her.

"Young warriors," Gandalf snorted as the girl slipped into a chair across from him, "they all think that they are invincible, and may stay up to all hours of the night with no ill effects the next morning."

"Yeah, pretty much," Leigh snickered.

"Well," Gandalf sighed, leaning back in his chair, "at least the talk seems to have done you some good. What is it that you hold?"

Leigh looked solemnly down at the bundle that was still resting in her hand, unopened. Then she raised her eyes to meet the wizard's. "A letter from Jaden."

Immediately, Gandalf's face changed to hope, or concern, or excitement, it was hard to tell. It was obvious that he wished to read her words himself, but he quickly checked himself and looked back at Leigh.

"I shall leave you to read it, then," Mithrandir said. Deliberately, he stood up, walked to his own nook in the wall, and slipped inside.

Leigh then raised her trembling hand and shakily opened the delicate folds of the paper. Judging from the rough edges that appeared here and there, she thought that Jaden had ripped pages from her beloved journal to make this letter. Her eyes were unwilling to focus in the leaping candlelight, but Leigh's eagerness ordered them to clear and read the words laid out before her.

_Dear Maylin, Leigh, and Jack,_

_Greetings again, my friends! Oh goodness, I've already started talking like a native, but you probably are, too, by now. I'm pretty much sure that this letter will reach at least one of you, but in case it falls into the wrong hands, it's written in ENGLISH! _

_I know you are probably brimming with questions, but I have a few of my own. Why did Faramir not see Boromir's body in a certain boat? Leigh, did you do something rash? Probably. Either that or you are all dead and no one could put the body in a boat. I dearly hope that this is not the case. Maylin, have you gotten anything solidified with a certain blonde Elf prince that we all know and love? If you haven't figured out that he's madly in love with you by now, I shall slap you. Savvy? Jack, I hope you did the smart thing and stayed in Lorien, but something tells me that you found some way of catching up with the others. Keep safe, you're the youngest._

_On to my life so far. Faramir is a good man, not the slightly scary one from the movies. He knows about us, and you can trust him. Of course, you would have to meet him to get this letter so you probably already knew that. Did I mention that I. Met. Gollum! I feel like a deranged fangirl. Oh, wait, I forgot, I am one. Of course, if we should get so far as Shelob's Lair, I will like him significantly less. Frodo and Sam are both bearing up well, and so am I for that matter, besides worrying about you lot, of course. If you die before I get to see you again, I'll kill you. _

_This feels good, it's like I'm actually talking to you guys again, and I can talk however I want in any way I want and you will understand me. If I had said that sentence at the end of the last paragraph to anyone else around here they would have thought I'd gone bonkers. _

_If I do not make it, there will be only the three of you to make sure everything goes as it should. With luck, I will be able to go with Frodo and Sam into Mordor. Luck, yeah right. Take care of Merry and Pippin for me, will you? Say hi to everyone if you can, and I hope that I can get my journal back to Bilbo. Make sure Glorfindel knows how this whole thing ends, concerning us, that is. He's almost like a father figure to us now, along with Aragorn. He did find us first, after all. _

_With love and friendship,_

_Jaden_

.O.O.O.

The next morning, Leigh was woken up by Gandalf's gentle hand on her shoulder. She blinked her eyes blearily and looked up at the old man standing beside her, smiling softly.

"It is time to rise, Leigh," he told her.

Yawning loudly, Leigh lifted her head and pushed back from the table... wait a minute. People didn't sleep at tables. At her confused expression Gandalf chuckled.

"You fell asleep over the letter," he reminded her.

"Oh," Leigh said flatly, looking down at the precious writing in front of her. "Oops."

She barely took the time to eat, swallowing it faster than Gandalf approved, but he made no comment and waited patiently as she refolded the letter and hid it under her little pillow. As she turned for her sword, though, Leigh bit back a surprised yelp. Her sword was just where she had left it the night before, but beside it stood a narrow breastplate and matching greaves and vambraces in the design of the Gondorian soldiers'.

"I sent for them before Pippin and I returned last night," Gandalf informed her, walking up to look over her shoulder. "Not as much armor as I would like for you to wear, but it is better than mere cloth. I'm afraid the dotards couldn't find a helmet the size to fit a 'lady.' Somehow I suspect that the Lord Denethor suggested the idea to them."

"These will be enough," Leigh said in awe. "I only hope that I'll be able to move in them."

"As do I," the wizard snorted.

"Then you know that there will be battle," Leigh said, turning around to look at her friend.

"It is unavoidable," Gandalf stated wryly. "I leave it to you: where do you wish to fight? Personally, I would rather have you by my side..."

"I won't ruin the surprise for you," Leigh grunted as she heaved on the breastplate, "but let me simply say that I wish to stay by Faramir."

Gandalf nodded and placed his hands behind his back. "Wait for me by the gate," he commanded. "I will bring you tidings and orders as soon as I may."

Leigh nodded as she fastened the last vambrace and buckled on her sword. In minutes she was ready and waiting by the colossal gates that led out of the city, and in only a few more minutes she was growing impatient. While it was wise to keep Denethor away from her and vice versa, Leigh ached for something to do, or something to hew, more specifically. Men spoke to her as they passed, calling out greetings and asking for news. Already, they had started to accept her as one of their own, and she was grateful for even the weak solace of distant comradery.

Poor little Pippin hadn't seen her in quite some time, and Leigh made a mental note so seek him out as soon as she had a spare moment. They had both been swept up in this mess together, and he had gotten the short end of the stick. It was extremely easy for Leigh to pity anyone who had to stand around in Denethor's presence all day, acting like a statue. At least she had freedom of movement, and she put it to good use. At that moment, she was pacing like a caged tiger, glancing up from time to time to growl at the heavy cloud cover and distant black peaks.

Gandalf came soon, and he told her what she already knew: Faramir was taking his men back to Osgiliath in a last, vain effort to win it back on the orders of his deranged father. Of course, Gandalf was extremely unhappy about her wishing to ride against so great a number with the handful of valiant warriors, and made sure to make that clear. But Leigh would not be dissuaded, and Gandalf grudgingly helped her find a horse and mount up with Faramir's men.

When Leigh came riding out and stopped by Faramir and his own horse, both decked in gleaming armor, they shared a silent nod of recognition and thanks before heading out over the rolling green of the Pelennor.

When they first reached the battle lines, they found a few men from the outer defenses still trying to hold back the swelling tide of monsters rising against them. Leigh and Faramir drew blades together, Nolemacil shining with its gleaming Elvish light in the face of its enemies. The cavalry was welcomed and quickly made a little headway against the surprised orcs gathered by the river. This new horse that Gandalf had found for her was better trained for battle and lashed out with its hooves whenever possible, striking down nearly as many brutes as Leigh reaped with her blade.

It did not take long for Leigh to be thankful for the armor, and wish that she had more. A badly aimed arrow pinged off of her breastplate early on in the day when she wandered too close to the enemy's archers, and she stopped a dagger with her right vambrace when Nolemacil was knocked away by a small, sneaky orc.

Looking up from a dead corpse she had just decapitated, Leigh spotted Faramir surrounded by a ring of especially large goblins wielding clubs and broadswords. His horse was doing well in fending off the monsters, but it was only a matter of time before one of them got past the captain's guard. Urging her mount over to the action, Leigh shrieked a war cry and cleaved the nearest orc's head in two. Before the others could recognize the new threat, Leigh had run through two more, and Faramir took the opportunity to lash out at a few more. In a minute the attackers had been slaughtered, and both Leigh and the Gondorian panted for breath.

The day went on like that, slashing and hacking, and the battle raged on into the night. Leigh and Faramir began taking shifts in the front, rallying the men and taking their own share of heads while the other rested for a short time farther back. It did not take long for Leigh to wish for Gandalf by her side with his wonderful light chasing off the shadows, but she fought on grimly until dawn came. By that time, they were forced back to the walls of the Pelennor, and the enemy swarmed over the river in countless crafts to reinforce their numbers. Leigh wanted to scream in frustration as every orc she cut down was replaced by five more of its kind, all fresh and fully armed for the battle. She felt like she was trying to bail the water out from in front of a crumbling dam.

With dawn came Gandalf, and he brought some semblance of order with him, fighting in the front lines with his heartening light and organizing wains to go back to the city with the wounded. For a full day they fought on with their new aid, but when day came again, the enemy began blasting through the thick wall that ringed the Pelennor and Gandalf went back with the wains as a guard. He had begged her to come back with him to the city, where she would be safe and could rest, but she stubbornly refused to leave Faramir to face the enemy alone. If Jaden could go into Mordor to protect Frodo and Sam, she could stand firm on the battlefield and ensure that Faramir returned to his own city still breathing.

They abandoned the outer defenses and began to slowly fall back across the Pelennor as the orcs, trolls and men came pouring through the holes in the battered wall. Now Faramir begged the young woman to go back with the main retreat, but she stood immovably on her decision and she stayed with the captain in the rearguard.

'At least the retreat is making good time,' Leigh thought sarcastically as she watched the main body of soldiers dashing back towards Minas Tirith. Once again, Faramir ordered for them to turn, and they faced down the hordes once again. From that point on things spiraled out of control.

A line of opposing horsemen burst out of the lines ahead of them and bore down on the tiny rearguard as they resolutely held their ground, enabling the others to retreat. Orcs were gushing towards them over the trampled grass waving torches and red banners, making it look like the land behind them was engulfed in flames.

As Leigh slashed at a man bearing down on her from horseback, she felt an unpleasantly familiar chill spread around her ribs and she looked up in time to see the Nazgul come swooping down, screaming on the backs of their fellbeasts. The man fell with an arrow stuck through his eye and poking out behind his ear, leaving Leigh to look around briefly for Faramir. He was a short distance away, struggling to stay in control of his horse, which panicked at the wails of the undead bearing down upon it.

In the blink of an eye, Leigh saw several arrows come flying from the bows of the approaching orcs and thud into Faramir, who reeled even as his horse was swept out from under him by the talons of a fellbeast. Before she could react, Leigh's own mount fell dead beneath her as an arrow drove home in the base of its skull. Leigh could not even take the time to spare a thought for the fierce horse that had just died, but instead spent all her concentration on swinging free as the beast fell and running, blade dripping with blood, to protect the fallen captain. Only a meager handful of men were still alive, and half of them were paralyzed with fear from the black dread of the Nazgul. Leigh paid them no mind and chopped the head off of a Southron as he approached Faramir's still body. Red banners and leaping flames blended in her eyes and her sword swung back and forth, chopping limbs and cleaving helms left and right. Blood was sprayed on her face and her hair was matted with gore, but she stood over Faramir's body and held off the approaching enemy until the sortie came from the city to save the routed defenders. By the time the horses swung around in a protective circle, Leigh's arm could barely lift her sword from fatigue. Gandalf was by her side in moments and helped her up behind him while the Prince of Dol Amroth bore the body of his fallen kinsman before him on his great horse. Shadowfax flicked his ears back in concern, but his master soothed him and they rode amid the swan knights back into the city.

While the Prince of Dol Amroth took Faramir to his father, Gandalf took Leigh swiftly back to their quarters and made her lie down and rest. By some miracle, or luck, Leigh had escaped nearly unscathed, and the worst injuries she had suffered were cuts in places her armor did not cover. However, another foe had fallen upon her: exhaustion. After fighting with little or no rest for days she was nearly dead from fatigue. Gandalf's face was grim as he watched over her until the black night came, and then he was forced to leave and attend council with the Steward and councilors again.

"Sleep well and deeply," he ordered as he rose, his face bleak and grey. "Tomorrow I shall need you again."

A/N: Well? What did ya think? The next chapter will probably be from mixed points of view, and then the chapter after that should be the Battle of the Pelennor Fields! Yay! Say 'Scar' if you have read my author's notes, and kudos if you know what movie I am referring to!


	54. When the Night is Darkest

Dislcaimer: If you want to sue me, you can't. You know why? Because I'm saying right now that I don't own the Lord of the Rings. Got it?

A/N: Hullo again! I miss some of my regular reviewers... where have you gone? Anyways, it is my duty to inform you that, as you have probably noticed, my beta reader has been forced to drop my fic due to excessive school work. Thus, if you are interested in being my beta and reading the new chapters before anyone else, then I am interested in hearing from you! Drop a review and I will reply as soon as I can! Thanks much!

When the Night is Darkest

Jack stepped lightly around the sleeping members of the host of Rohan as he headed towards Elfhelm's section of camp. The two had met the day before by chance, one leaving the King's quarters and the other entering. Neither of them had been in a particular rush, and had taken the brief time necessary to exchange names and pleasantries, although Jack hardly needed any introduction these days... Someone snored to his left, and the young man smirked. Some things never changed.

It didn't take long for Jack to reach the spot he was searching for in the crammed camp, and he allowed himself a triumphant smirk at the sight of the leader's tent, marked by a small pennant hung by the roof. The older man smiled only a small and short smirk at the sight of the young prophet and asked simply what brought him to his section of the camp.

"Would you happen to know of a young man by the name of Dernhelm and his round lump of luggage?" Jack asked innocently.

Elfhelm looked the boy over with his stern grey eyes and seemed to deem him harmless enough. He was a prophet, after all, he would most likely already know such things... Elfhelm nodded to a pile of gear and a horse tied to a nearby tree.

Bowing, Jack smiled again and walked over to where a youthful rider was honing his sword. He stopped a few paces away, crossed his arms and spoke.

"Hello, Lady Eowyn," he said easily.

Immediately, the King's niece sprang up and whirled to face the boy behind her. A few strands of her shining hair were hanging out from her helm, which she still wore, even at night, and her face was streaked with smudges of dirt in an effort to disguise herself.

"You don't have to worry about me," Jack consoled her. "If it had been my intention to give you away to the King, I would have done so long before now."

"Thank you," Eowyn bowed her head, cheeks flaring. "However, if you have come to change my mind, or to scold me for my rashness..."

"I have come to do no such thing," Jack said sharply. "In fact, I've come to hand you a bit of advice for the battle."

Now Eowyn looked up eagerly, eyes bright as the mightiest Rider.

"Do as your heart commands," Jack told her sternly. "Besides that, I wish to say 'I hope we meet again after the battle.' With any luck, we will both still be alive."

"Again, thank you," Eowyn nodded, though clearly puzzled.

"Where is everyone's favorite lump of luggage?" Jack asked cheerily.

"Asleep," Eowyn said, "on the other side of the tree."

"Glad I didn't just reveal you to him, it would have ruined the surprise," Jack winked. Then he stepped lightly around the bole of the tree and smirked down at the neat little bundle at his feet. Even when he was resting, Merry hadn't shirked his disguise. Jack kicked him playfully.

"OW!" the bundle yelped. "Dernhelm? Is it time to ride?"

"No, but it is time to wake," Jack replied.

Merry yelped, jumped, and then tried to go still again and fool his watcher.

"Not falling for it, Merry," Jack said simply. "You can stop trying to be a bag now."

Slowly, Merry's tousled head came clear of his cloak. While it was clear that he was a bit annoyed at being tricked, it was obvious that he was glad to see his friend.

"You're not going to be stubborn, are you, Merry?" Jack whined. "Can't you just say 'hello?'"

"Hello," Merry said flatly as he folded his arms over his chest. "If you knew I was here all along, why didn't you come earlier?"

"Duh," Jack rolled his eyes, "the King needed me. Terribly hard to excuse yourself by saying that you need to go and speak with someone he expressly forbid from coming without giving that person away."

"Oh," Merry blinked. "I forgot."

"Why am I not surprised?" Jack wondered aloud.

"How's your new horse, Jack?" Merry asked eagerly. "I haven't seen either of you in a while."

"He's mad at me for the moment," Jack snorted. "Fengel thinks that I have no other friends, evidently."

"How did you find me, anyway?" Merry squinted up at the boy.

"The leader of your company is someone I met the other day, and this camp isn't _that_ big," Jack pointed out. "All I had to do was ask around for a suspicious lump of cargo that talked more than usual."

Once again, Merry pouted.

"I haven't gotten to tease anyone in a _week_," Jack whimpered, "please don't be cross. It's all in good fun."

"I know," Merry bobbed his head, "but one tends to be a tad moody after riding a huge horse for days and days while pretending to be a rolled-up blanket."

"Point taken," Jack nodded. "I should probably be heading back. Fengel will only wait for so long."

"Farewell, Jack!" the little hobbit cried. "I hope we meet again after the battle!"

.O.O.O.

Jack's estimation of Fengel's restlessness was barely beyond the truth. Standing impatiently by the tree he was tethered to, the war horse looked over his shoulder and snorted at the boy approaching him. It wasn't really fair to say that Fengel was impatient, it was more astute to say that he was 'possessive.' Jack was now _his_ master, and it was terribly hard to protect the lad when he wouldn't keep close. Fengel would have preferred to just follow Jack like an extremely large dog from place to place, but the rules of general camp-hood dictated that he be tied to a tree or stake in the ground.

Jack bowed his head at his horse's reproachful look and glumly came to stand in front of him. "Sorry."

Nuzzling Jack's hair, Fengel let the youngling know that he was forgiven and that their relationship had not been damaged. Then he began nosing around Jack's pockets, hoping for a treat.

"Sorry again," Jack laughed. "We're kind of in the middle of a war-zone, my friend, and snacks are scarce."

Fengel snorted but accepted the excuse and bent down to finish his dinner of fresh grass.

With a sigh, Jack sank down against the tree at his back while he watched his latest friend graze. The only pet he had ever had that was his own responsibility was a goldfish, and it had died in a month. Of course, there were many sob stories about the death of such scaley friends, and they seemed to have a shorter than usual life expectancy. Poor fishies. Now, here he was in a camp full of well-trained Rohirrim, and he was placed with a horse that was entirely his. These people trusted him a lot more than he trusted himself. Then again, Fengel didn't seem like the sort of horse that would _let_ his master fail in taking care of him. What would the others think? Oh, would they have fun...

Jack raised his head and looked up at the boiling sky above him. That was the one thing held in common at the moment by the members of the Four: they were all trapped under this awful, baleful sky. For the past few days Jack had felt an almost physical ache in the absence of the sunlight. At this point in time he actually wanted a nice, crisp sunburn. He wanted to see the sun's glare reflecting off of the many helmets and trapping of the soldiers around him and blinding him as it set. Anything would be better than his terrible, eternal grey. 'Just one more day,' he reminded himself. And with that blessed sunlight would come a literal host of problems.

.O.O.O.

Leigh rose before the sun slipped up above the thick-bellied clouds overhead. As usual, Gandalf needed her to rally to troops, but this time there was a slight twist. Apparently since Faramir had come back terribly wounded, a rumor had started seeping among the shaking men that Gandalf's prophetess had fallen as well and was resting eternally in the guest quarters. Naturally, this little fire needed to be stamped out as quickly as possible, and besides a few aches and pains, Leigh had no objection to rising again. The brief slumber she had been granted did wonders for her. In Gandalf's eyes it seemed almost like the girl he had known before had sprung back into her rightful place.

While she had slept, the enemy had dug trenches all around the entrance to Minas Tirith and filled them with fire while catapults and more legions came up behind the flames. The catapults, also, had been put to good use the moment they were completed. There were fires spreading through the first level as enchanted missiles were flung over the wall and burst into flame. The worst thing to be sent flying into the City, however, was not a flaming projectile, but a mass of heads hacked off of the dead bodies that had fallen in Osgiliath and across the plain.

However, despite their vigorous attack, there was no way to fight back. No minions had been loosed on the walls themselves, and the black swarm hid behind the lines of fire scarred into the Pelennor. It was frustrating to say the least, especially to Leigh, who paced the walls restlessly with Nolemacil unsheathed in her sweating hand. The Elvish blade snapped and glared in the red torch-light coming from the field beyond and the small blazes behind the wall. As tempting as it was to start insulting the mangy beasts down below, Leigh knew very well that they would never be able to hear her high voice from so far away. Maybe if all of the Four were together they could jeer as one...

Nonetheless, the men were inspired to take heart at the muttered words and sharp glares of the stranger from 'the North,' as it had come to be said. The Lady stalked and growled, muttering come-backs under her breath whenever a fresh volley came speeding from the catapults. Of course, she had taken one look at the defenses on the walls and muttered something about the desperate need for trebuchets.

From nearby, Gandalf silently rejoiced at the return of his dear little Leigh. The imperative demands of action dictated complete control, and freed the child from any doubts that she might still have been suffering from. At least the current turmoil over Boromir had been buried for the time being, and the warrior in Leigh had asserted itself. The way she fumed and paced was almost funny, but it was difficult to be light at heart when the sky overhead was filled with screaming Nazgul and the area behind the wall was littered with rolling heads.

Later that day, when the evening was drawing on into night, Gandalf ordered Leigh to go and eat while she still could. Both sensed that the real battle would come soon and swiftly, and the wizard wanted his little 'captain' to be as strong as possible, for there would be little reprieve from the fighting once it had begun. So, nerves taut and jaw set, Leigh marched towards the upper levels, feeling mixed anger and sorrow at the sight of every severed head that she passed. Oh, there would be a few more heads spinning around once the orcs plucked up the guts to storm the wall...

As she passed by a relatively undamaged section of the wall, Leigh laid eyes on something that froze her blood in her veins. Resting at her feet, was a bloody, lopped off head bearing the face of a young soldier she had fought by in Osgiliath. The last she had seen him, he was fleeing back to the city, unable to control himself long enough to stay in the rearguard. Leigh hadn't thought anything of it at the time, knowing very well what fear drove him back to his home, but it had never occurred to her that the young man had not made it before he was cut down. Now here was his bloody head, staring at her with glassy eyes in a face frozen white in terror as some terrible thing sealed his gory fate. Leigh fell back against the wall, knocking into several more heads on the way, and closed her eyes. Sauron's price for the little time they had gained before the siege by holding onto Osgiliath was high, and he exacted his tax in blood and flesh. Well, she would do some heavy damage of her own before this battle was over, she swore it.

.O.O.O.

The field had turned into a black oblivion with streaks of blazing fire from the viewpoint of those on the wall. Everything was quiet: to quiet. Deep inside every warrior left on the wall their instincts screamed that something was up. There was no reason for the Witch King, who now ordered the troops, to hold back his men, unless of course he was winding back the spring to send them hurtling towards Minas Tirith. Raising her eyes to the sky, Leigh squinted for a sight of even the dimmest star, hoping to see some heavenly spark to watch her from above. Of course, Sauron's cloud was far too thick for such a thing, and all she got for her searching was a headache. She grumbled and looked back out over the fields, hoping to catch a glimpse of her enemy's movements.

Suddenly, the air was rent by a hollering cry from the dark lines outside and black specks bearing bright torches rolled forward over the remaining ground.

"At last," Leigh muttered. Whirling, she called for archers, and immediately, every archer in the near vicinity swarmed up to the edge of the wall and began firing into the shady crowds. The action may have begun, but now that the pendulum was in motion, there appeared to be no stopping it, and company after company came pouring around the lines of fire and towards the White City. There were far too few men on the walls to repel the force, and although they shot in rapid succession, barely a dent was made in the onslaught.

Then the siege towers were released to roll forwards and blades were drawn all along the white walls. Leigh panted and shifted Nolemacil's grip. For maybe an hour more, the siege towers came slowly forwards and the arrows and larger weaponry on the walls fired back. Fire screamed through the air and tore into the ranks of soldiers on both sides as rock from the inner city fell with the massive towers creeping up on the outer wall. The air was thick with tension and anticipation. All those who had waited for action now stood ready and shaking with adrenaline as their foes came closer at such an awfully slow rate. By now, Leigh could see the bobbing heads behind the shielded front of the nearest siege tower.

Suddenly, the ramp crashed down from the approaching tower and the tension in the air snapped with an almost audible crack. Orcs leapt out to meet the cold bitterness of Gondorian steel. Nolemacil sang as it cleaved through flesh and bone over and over again as the flood of foes rushed to meet it. High above the deep bellows of the fighting men came Leigh's shriek-like battle cry. She might die that night, but such a thought was far from her battle-fevered mind as she hacked and slashed through the horde pouring down on her. All around her, men fell and were replaced by soldiers from bellow, fresh and ready to dispatch the foul beasts before them. Leigh, however, never backed down for a rest, but continued plowing her way through the mangled bodies of the goblins before her to reach new targets. In her hands, Nolemacil drank deeply and long the black blood of Mordor's pawns, glutting itself on their spilled lives.

Beyond Leigh's blurred sight, Grond was pulled onto the field, heading towards the weakest point in the wall: the Gate of Gondor. Although it was made well of heavy wood and iron, it was flimsy in comparison to the thick walls that surrounded it. As men fought and died, battling the siege towers, the monstrous battering ram forged in the form of a wolf's head rolled forward with a steady, slow pace that would drive any man mad. From where it hung on the heavy chains, Grond grinned in horrible malice towards the dying city it was coming to.

After many hours of hard fighting, Leigh heard Gandalf's commanding voice shouting for her over the din of the fight. Struggling back, the blood-splattered swordswoman found the wizard by the stairs down into the court.

"We must hold the gate," he said forcefully. "Stay by my side, it is here that we shall meet our greatest foe in this fight."

Leigh nodded, catching her breath, and turned towards the door. From somewhere in the city, a man came with a horse, handing it over to her quickly before casting a terrified glance at the door and fleeing to the upper levels. Leigh smiled at her old friend who now stood beside her, for the man had brought the self same horse that had born her to meet Faramir on his first return to the city. She gave the faithful beast an absent stroke before mounting and coming to wait beside Gandalf. They would face this evil together.

It had come to both Gandalf and Leigh's attention that, for reasons unknown, Leigh, and probably the other members of the Four, was more impervious to the Nazguls' terror than the other members of her race. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she had come from another world, or maybe it was connected with the manner in which the Witch King had pulled her into Middle-Earth. Whatever the reason, Leigh was grateful for the advantage, and did not press it with questions.

Despite this, a hard, cold dread had settled in Leigh's heart as she listened to the dark words shouted by the Black Captain just outside the gate in command to swing Grond, the massive battering ram made solely for the attack on the Door. The gates shook under the first two blows but held. When the third stroke fell, the door was broken and fell in shattered fragments to the ground.

Through the mist and debris, a lone black figure came riding through the shattered gate. Eerily silhouetted against the raging fires beyond, the Witch King came steadily forwards. The courtyard was abandoned, its defenders having fled long since, except for two figures who faced down the black terror.

Leigh stubbornly tightened the reins on her panicking horse. True, it had stood well against the lesser Nazgul at a distance, but this was their leader, and he was far closer than the others had been. But Gandalf's steed, Shadowfax, stood stoutly and resolute.

"You cannot enter here," Gandalf said. The Witch King halted. "Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!"

Then the lord of the Nine threw back the black hood that had shrouded his face from view, and Leigh saw an iron crown held aloft in space and the red fire burning behind clearly visible. A harsh, mouthless laughter blew from the headless figure.

"Old fool!" he shouted. "Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!" With that, he lifted is thick sword to the sky and flames licked their way down the blade.

Gandalf did not move, and Leigh, by some miracle, kept her horse remotely under control. Then came the most unexpected and startling sound to have ever been heard in that white courtyard. From some corner of the city, a cock crowed. It was not a thing of magic or sorcery, but a simple animal greeting the dawn as it always had.

From far away came another, answering, call. Horns resounded from a distant hill and filled the shattered city with a fresh breath of life. Rohan had come.

A/N: Huzzah! Oh yeah, awesome stuff up next! We will see Maylin in the next chapter, I promise! I pulled a Tolkien and just didn't show her for a while... Anywho... Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Since Fengel is still fairly new to the scene, say 'Fengel' in your REVIEW (which I'm sure you will...) and tell me what you think of Jack's new friend. Thankies much! I am lonely, please review!


	55. The Battle of the Pelennor Fields

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings. Savvy?

A/N: Alrighty, then. I am officially spoiling you people! This chapter is VERY long, and we see everyone except Jaden. Stop glaring, I will bring her back when I choose to bring her back. So there. Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Oh, yes, I am still looking for a BETA. Just a note, here, folks, there are, like, thirty-eight of you with this fic on your favs list, and very few of you have reviewed so... yeah. REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Battle of the Pelennor Fields

Bright dawn broke over the ravaged city and broad plain before it as Jack looked on from the midst of the Riders of Rohan. A massive horde of orcs, men and other creatures milled around like a black sea before the stained white walls of Minas Tirith. All around him, Riders looked on in shaken but determined courage as the sun rose to greet them.

Theoden had flown into a wild mood, and he wheeled his horse before the ranks of his Riders, shouting a battle cry.

"_Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden! Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter! Spear shall be shaken, shield shall be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"_

Hardly knowing what he was doing, Jack raised his Rohirric sword and shouted along with the men around him. Fengel leapt forward beneath him as the King pounded away on Snowmane, his best knights trailing behind him, trying to keep up. Everything was strangely surreal as Jack saw the first lines of orcs coming nearer and nearer. The grass shone green beneath the hooves of the horses, and the clouds shredded and tattered in the face of the avenging sun. Then Jack followed the banner of Rohan, the white horse on the green field, into the black army.

Shrill squeals and screams poured into the air as the brutish monsters all around began to tumble in bloody heaps before the Riders and their fearsome horses. Jack clung to Fengel with his legs while he tried to manage the reins and hacked out at any orcish head that had the misfortune of drawing near. They were soon among the mighty siege engines, chopping and swinging at the creatures running them, driving the rest into the fire pits.

Fengel reared and pawed the air with a triumphant neigh as the massive weapons were consumed by the fires summoned to protect them. As his hooves crashed down to earth once again, the wise horse saw a wave of red and black rolling towards him and his master across the barren expanse of the fields, and he shook and pranced angrily at the sight of enemy riders on other horses. Before young Jack could regain his composure from the rearing, Fengel went headlong with the King's men into the midst of the new battle, taking Jack with him. The Rohirrim were fewer, but they were fierce and angry, and they shot through the attacking Southrons like green and gold lightening.

By this time, Jack had come somewhat back to himself, enough to block blows from the red-clad warriors swarming around him and take his own toll on their numbers. He had always been less skilled with the sword than Leigh or Maylin, but he and Jaden had always believed that the two oldest friends would be there to watch their backs. Now Jack wished that he had paid a little more attention to Glorfindel's cruelly strenuous lessons. In Helm's Deep, he had still been able to use his bow for the most part, but there was no time in this crushing melee to aim and reload.

The sword in the boy's hand whirled and sang as it glinted in the blazing sunlight. Blood was everywhere, and the green grass was now a muddy scarlet, blotched by limp bodies and parts of bodies. There were horses screaming in the press of the fight, and many were running about riderless, the whites of their eyes showing. All those of the enemy riders who had not been slain wheeled and ran. Jack pumped his arm in the air and shouted.

Suddenly in the midst of their victory came a dark blot that veiled the sun and swooped down upon the Riders with icy malice. A dreadful scream rent the air and both the horses ran madly away, Snowmane, the King's horse, rearing with a dart piercing his white hide before falling dead on top of his lord. Beneath Jack, Fengel whirled and screamed, bucking and dashing across the open field with little heed to where he was going. Jack shared the costly gift his friends possessed in strength against the Nazgul, but his trusty steed did not, and it was all he could do to cling onto the beast with his legs and fight with the reins like snakes.

After he had borne his rider halfway across the battlefield, Fengel quieted and hung his head in shame. Sheepishly, he looked over his shoulder at his young rider, apologizing for his fear. Jack leaned forward and rubbed the horse's neck with a light smile.

"It's alright, friend," he said, "if I was in your shoes, I would have run, too."

Satisfied, Fengel snorted and tossed his head before turning and trotting back the way he had come. Jack, however, felt the weight of a saddened heart settle between his lungs. He knew what had transpired in his absence: Theoden king was slain, and Eowyn lie wounded on the field with Merry standing by. This would be no joyous celebration at the defeat of the Witch King, but a terrible reunion between brother, sister, and the parting of an uncle.

It was much as Jack had suspected when he arrived, although Eomer and his men had not yet returned, and he was alone with Merry and the King while Eowyn's body rested nearby. Just as he came, the dying ruler was speaking to the little hobbit.

"Farewell, Master Holbytla!" he said in a weak voice. "My body is broken. I go to my fathers, and in their mighty company I shall not be ashamed. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!"

"Forgive me, lord," Merry cried brokenly, "if I broke your command, and yet have done no more in your service than to weep at our parting."

The old king smiled. "Grieve not! It is forgiven. Great heart will not be denied. Live now in blessedness; and when you sit in peace with your pipe, think of me!" Then, the King's eyes drifted to the grey figure clad like both an Elf and a Man who stood now behind the king's small esquire.

"Young master Jack," he smiled, sighing. "I doubt not now, the burden you bear. In your eyes I see the tale. You knew what was to come here."

"Yes, my lord," Jack nodded gravely, forcing back his own tears. "I knew."

Theoden sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment. "Such a heavy burden, for one so young... for any. Live well, young Jack. Find your friends again, do not let your burden drown you before you have lived. Remember."

"I shall, lord," Jack said shakily, kneeling by the old man.

"Where is Eomer?" the king asked presently. "My eyes darken, and I would see him ere I go. He must be king after me."

A clamor of horns boomed over the Pelennor as the two sides sprang forward again and charged across the field. Mumaks could be seen in the distance, lumbering behind ranks of enemy horsemen from the river. Eomer and his men came down upon them like a storm, and Jack felt his grief, fear, and utter sorrow rise up in his throat. He had suppressed his feelings for so long, but as he watched Thoeden bid his final farewell to Eomer and bid him carry his words back to Eowyn, Jack felt boyish tears run freely down his face.

Then Eomer looked and saw Eowyn lying limply on the field and cried out. A fey mood fell upon him, and without council or words with his men, sprang on his horse and rode to meet the fresh army rumbling over the plains towards them. "Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the worlds's ending!" he shouted as he went out to avenge his fallen kinsmen. Likewise enraged, his men swiftly followed him with a terrible roar and they blew away southwards to fight.

Jack was left standing with Merry and the few men Eomer had assigned to carry back the body of the King and the knights who had fallen with him. Awkwardly, Fengel sidled up to the young man's side, sensing his distress but wishing to run with the other horses into battle, and nudged his arm carefully. With a deep breath, Jack looked down at Merry who stood beside him, not knowing where to look or what to do.

"I must go," Jack said distantly. "Stay with the lord and lady, some good has yet to come, and you need medical care. Goodbye for now, Merry."

"Goodbye, Jack," Merry said, not even looking at him.

Wearily, Jack slung himself up and onto his horse and set off at a gallop after the other riders.

.O.O.O.

The moment the Witch King left the shattered entrance to the city, Leigh began kicking her horses in the ribs to go out into the battle raging outside. For a moment, the horse remained skittish of the way in which the black monster had fled, but it soon shook off the stupor of terror it had fallen into and plunged forwards. Even as Merry cried to Gandalf, Leigh was shooting through the door. Gandalf cried out to her, probably wanting her to stop, but Leigh was bent on reaching her friends. If Jack and/or Maylin had remained with the Rohirrim and been permitted to ride, then they would be with the King, and would be right in the path of the Witch King as he descended for the kill. If they had been forbidden to ride, then they would doubtless be riding with Eowyn and Merry, which meant that they would, once again, be in harm's way. It had nothing to do with Leigh not having faith in her friends, but she wanted to be there for them and fight side by side like they had in the beginning, before they had been divvied up to go with separate companies. Of course, Gandalf was most likely right, and she would only succeed in getting into a lot of trouble, but she quite honestly didn't care. Maybe this was why she had gotten along with Boromir so well...

Orcs and trolls stared dumbly at the lone warrior that blew past them out of the broken gates and went like lightening over the plain. Many of them cowered in fright, thinking that it was the wizard that had come to slaughter them all as they tried to pour into the falling city. In fact, quite a few lost their heads as an elvish blade whistled through the morning air as its keeper sped by on her way to greater deeds.

It seemed that the Witch King's fell beast was kept a short distance away, and while he was indeed hurrying, his pace was not so swift as his pursuer. Leigh honestly didn't even realize that she was following the Lord of the Nine until she spotted him a little ways ahead. Now, Leigh was not so foolish or arrogant to believe that she could single handedly strike down the Witch King, that was Eowyn's bucket of fish, anyway, but she found herself caught between two of the great fire pits with orcs and trolls behind her. There was only one way out, and that was forwards. Her plan was quite simply, really: blow by above mentioned baddie before he saw her or it dawned on him who she was, and keep going until she found at least one buddy, be they from plain earth or Middle-Earth. Eowyn, Eomer or even Theoden would work if none of the Four had come with them. But at the moment she had other fish to fry... or blow by...

Just as the Witch King had at first underestimated the strange youths he dragged into his world, so did Leigh at that moment underestimate the Witch King. Just as the Four sensed the presence of the Nazgul since being torn from their home, so did the Witch King sense the presence of those he had brought through the rift. He turned as Leigh neared, and the blood drained from her face as she realized that she was caught between a rock and a very, very hard place. The Lord of the Nazgul drew his sword and laughed in that terrible, mouthless laugh as Leigh jerked her horse to a stop. Behind her, several great trolls lumbered up to where the fire pits began and stopped there, letting their captain take care of the slim arrow that had shot through them.

"I do not wish to fight you!" Leigh shouted over the roar of the flames on either side of her.

"But _I_ wish to fight _you_," the Witch King laughed.

Leigh's hand tightened on her sword hilt as the Witch King sat easily on his foaming horse. Her own horse was quivering and shying from everything, unsure whether it would be better to face the flames or the awful monster at the exit. Grimly, Leigh spurred her mount forward before it decided to toast them both, and the Black Rider responded in kind, driving his horse towards her at breakneck speeds. The two blades met with a flash and a deafening ring, the light versus the dark. Again the Witch King laughed, but Leigh wasted no time in heading towards the break in the flames which her opponent had left open. Once again, the Lord of the Nine proved that he was no fool and threw his long, deadly sword towards the retreating girl and her horse.

Unknowingly, Leigh turned her horse at that moment and the black blade sank into the faithful horse's neck instead of the girl's. She managed to spring free as the beast fell over dead, but she was now in the thick of the enemy with no steed to bear her to safety, and the Witch King was galloping towards her again. Snatching up Nolemacil, which had been knocked loose in the fall, Leigh planted her feet and waited for the obsidian horse to reach her with its dark master.

Then, in the cool morning breeze which blew Leigh's bright hair away from her face, a hail of deadly rain came whistling along towards the young woman. Before she could move, Leigh was struck by multiple black arrows that easily pierced her weak armor at close range. Her breath was knocked from her, and for a moment she was in shock, falling to her knees. Then the pain hit. It came in an unfaltering force that left the girl helpless and fighting for breath. She did not know where she had been hit, but her whole body, especially her chest and torso, was in unbelievable pain.

A dark shape bent over her and clapped an icy, gauntlet-clad hand around her throat, picking her up again by her neck as she fought against the pain coursing through her body. As she tried to force her eyes open, a cold breath of frozen, dead air blew in her face, and she coughed and moaned.

"Young fool," the Witch King berated. "You should have stayed by your precious wizard, you were two fools well matched. I have not the time to deal with you now." Then he flung the sorely wounded warrior away from him and returned to his mission of winning the battle. Little did he know that he was soon to be vanquished by another brave young woman who dared to defy him.

.O.O.O.

Jack wavered in his blow as his muscles protested. It seemed like the ranks of enemy soldiers would never cease materializing from the other side of the river. He had stayed as close to Eomer as he could, catching glimpses of the white horse-tail plume off and on throughout the fight. Of course, it was next to impossible to stay really close to anyone in a fight like the one Jack found himself in. Soldiers from both sides, usually the enemy, surged up between him and his fellows, hampering all sight of them. He times he did manage to get close to the new King of Rohan, Eomer was too wrapped up in his battle rage to speak with.

The greatest problem the Riders of Rohan encountered came from the massive mumakil. Every time they drew near the great beasts, the horses would shy away and refuse to go near. The mumakil had no such qualms. They plowed through the horsemen like the prows of ships, and wherever they went, they left the dead and mortally injured in their wake.

Luckily for Jack, faithful Fengel was sure to protect him whenever his sword arm slacked, which was quite often. Jack, unlike the seasoned warriors around him, did not have the stamina in battle built up by years of battles and long rides across the vast fields of Rohan, and his muscles were weakening.

The boy and horse wheeled around for the thousandth time to escape the crushing feet of the mumak bearing down on them. Fengel was one of the few horses that dared stand up to the walking mountains and he bore Jack into the fray as often as he was bade. The sword in his hand crashed down on a helmet moving by to his left, and then Jack looked up to see the battle-fevered monster coming his way again. Urging Fengel around, Jack dragged a spear out of a dead orc to his right, shifting his sword to his left hand with the reins, and ordered his horse forward. Fengel's feet moved with swift grace over and around the many dead bodies strewn on the ground, finding the quickest path to wherever his master commanded him to go. The two understood each other enough to wheel and turn as one, uniting their spirits in the fight, and Jack had every intention of putting that bond to the test.

The mumak following them seemed to have decided to bear them a grudge for no particular reason, and Jack knew he had to either bring it down or go down himself. Boy and beast zipped back toward the towering behemoth and darted between its legs, dodging the swinging trunk and tusks. Dumbfounded and afraid, the oliphaunt tried to prance away from the little things slipping around its legs. One massive foot thudded to earth to Jack's left, barely missing him and Fengel. Keeping Fengel moving around so as not to be squished, Jack looked up towards the soft belly of the monster, spying where the ribs came together under the bulky flesh. Without hesitation, he reared his arm back and hurled the spear into the beast's belly, aiming for what he hoped was the heart, or at least a lung. Immediately, the four knees of the mumak buckled and Jack urgently steered Fengel out from the falling body. The creature wasn't quite dead yet, but it was sorely wounded, and Jack turned his attention back to looking for Eomer. It wouldn't do for the brave new king to be cut down in the middle of the battle, it wouldn't do at all.

All around him, Jack heard cries of dismay and despair. Looking up from the battle, he saw why. The black ships were coming down the river.

Quickly, he scanned the nearby faces and helmets for the familiar plume of Eomer. The king was some distance away, and Jack had little hope of reaching him in the near future. All of the Riders suddenly poured forward to the river, determined to meet their new foes, but then the standard of the King unfurled over the lead ship, and it was like a second dawn had come.

"Yes!" Jack cheered, pumping his sword into the air. Then he focused on getting to the newcomers as soon as possible.

.O.O.O.

Maylin hopped off of the ship beside her new fiancé. Before her, the dark armies of Mordor surged and heaved, boiling up between her and the White City that gleamed in the bright afternoon sunlight. She slowly let out a pent-up breath and felt Legolas's hand slide into hers. Maylin looked up and him, and the regal Elf smiled down at her. Ahead of them, Aragorn was already marching towards the first line of soldiers facing them with Boromir by his side.

Beside them, Gimli, as well as the sons of Elrond, had witnessed the little display, but did not comment, having grown used to the two during the voyage up the river. The tough Dwarf was already growling out a challenge to his friend Legolas, weighing his axe in his hands and shivering with excited nerves.

Maylin's eyes were already trained towards the group of Rohirric horsemen trying to fight their way towards them. Jack would be with them, she knew it. Her feet obeyed her orders to step forward after Aragorn, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Gimli seemed to notice this, and promptly knocked her in the ribs with the end of his axe.

"Come now, lassie," he growled. "We wouldn't want for the little princeling to lose his dearest love just because she's a wee bit distracted. I'm sure those rascally friends of yours are safe and well."

"I'll try, Gimli," Maylin smirked. "If I were you, I would be more worried about my beating your score."

"What?" Gimli cried after her, but she was already racing ahead with the men.

As her feet beat a steady rhythm on the ground, Maylin felt the cool breath of dead souls brushing past her and going on ahead to fight against the foes gathered against them. She shouted as her first arrow plunged home. Being no fool, Maylin hung back a short ways from the main action, using her arrows from a safer distance. This, of course, made all men in the party very happy, because it helped keep her safer than if she plunged headlong into the fray with them. Smooth wooden shafts and soft white fletching whispered against the Elf's fingers and she fired arrow after arrow into the wonderfully grouped mass of enemies before her. Although it was not her intention, her arrows always seemed to be fired into the general vicinity of a certain elven prince, striking down any foe that dared draw near him. Naturally, she didn't forget to keep score. Within five minutes Maylin was up to seventeen kills. Oh, wouldn't Gimli be furious...

"Maylin!" a familiar voice shouted to the Elf's right.

Turning to look, Maylin found herself looking at an old friend riding on a gleaming warhorse and dressed in a strange combination of Rohirric and Elven armor.

"Jack!" she cried happily.

"Glad you and your friends could stop by," the boy laughed. "I was getting lonely."

"The pleasure is ours!" Maylin said cheerfully.

"I do, however, have one bone to pick with you," Jack informed her. "Your dead army has taken out enough of the enemy that targets are scarce, and I'm bored."

"Oh, hush up," Maylin retorted.

It was true, though. The army of dead spirits had obliterated the orcs and men under Sauron's command, leaving only a few stragglers on the field which were quickly disposed of. Inwardly, Maylin was grateful. The day was drawing on, and Jack wasn't the only person she wanted to see again.

"Have you seen Leigh yet?" Maylin asked, walking back towards the city with Jack after he dismounted.

"No," Jack replied with a shake of his head. "I've been... preoccupied. Even if she came out into the battle, it would be very easy for us to have not seen each other thus far. She might be inside tending the wounded. Gandalf would be happy."

Suddenly, Jack stumbled forward and fell flat on his face. When he looked up, he found himself staring into the face on one very miffed horse.

"Oops," he chuckled under his breath. "Sorry, my friend. I forgot." Fengel snorted. Rising, Jack brushed himself off and smiled warmly at Maylin. "Maylin, this is Fengel, Fengel, this is Maylin."

"You have a horse?" Maylin blinked. Fengel nosed her and rubbed his head against the Elf's chest until she consented to stroke him.

"Yeah," Jack said bashfully. "Eowyn and Eomer wanted me to have him so... they gave him to me."

"Well," Maylin announced, "I like him. He's sweet." Affectionately, the horse snorted into the girl's hair.

Together, the threesome wandered to where Aragorn and Eomer's parties had met in the midst of the field. Even as they approached, the frightening green army disappeared into the wind, and a calm fell over the whole of the Pelennor as their souls found peace. Very soon, however, the two men returned to talking, not noticing the approach to the young people for a few more minutes.

That was alright with Jack and Maylin. Despite their age differences, they remained close companions, and to be reunited with another member of the Four was... wonderful. They walked along in silence, undisturbed by Fengel, who seemed to realize the importance of this meeting. Neither one had anything pressing to say, and all they wanted at the moment was a few minutes of just knowing that an old friend was walking beside them.

At last, their time alone ended, and Aragorn greeted them both with a warm, though tired, smile.

"Ah, Jack," he beamed, "I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you again. I see you have made a new friend."

"This is Fengel," Jack nodded. "L- King Eomer and Lady Eowyn gave him to me... or me to him. I'm still trying to figure out which."

Aragorn threw back his head and laughed. "Had it been any differently, I would have doubted that you had been presented with a Rohirric warhorse.

"But I am afraid that I cannot spare time to speak more with you now, Jack," the Ranger sighed, looking away toward the City. "I must arrange a camp outside the walls for myself and the Rangers, and there are other matters..."

"You should be able to go in," Maylin muttered, crossing her arms like a stubborn child.

Aragorn smiled again. "As you have told me many times. But I hold to my belief that I should only enter the city, at least openly, when the time comes for me to take the throne of my ancestors."

"'Openly,'" Maylin replied, adding quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

"Ai, Maylin," Jack groaned. "Let the poor man be. Besides, we have another fish to fry."

"Oh yeah," Maylin said as a light dawned in her eyes.

From where he stood close at hand, Eomer snorted teasingly. "I pity the fish," he commented.

Being the usual flawless Elf that he was, Legolas greeted Jack, but let his bride-to-be run off a moment later to attend to the search for her friend. He had learned that the bond between the Four was not something to be lightly fooled with, and it was best that the youths meet together without excess company first anyway.

Gimli, of course, managed to boast of his numerous kills to the slim elven archer, though, before she took off, and was sure to make sure that he had her beaten soundly. Maylin replied that Jack had distracted her during the battle and took off with her buddy before the Dwarf could get another word in.

At first, Jack and Maylin were sure that they would walk the rest of the way to the White City, but Fengel wouldn't hear of it, and wouldn't leave them alone until they had swung up onto his back and rode double to the broken gate. Most of the men were so shell-shocked from the battle and its sudden end, that hardly any of them took notice of the strange young people riding in through their gates and towards the Houses of Healing, where they thought they had the best chance of finding Leigh, or someone who knew where she was. Many people were coming in and out of the doorway to the simple building, carrying stretchers or dashing away on errands. Even as they stopped and dismounted, the two saw Eomer and Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, pass them on their way to the Citadel to see the Steward.

Jack gave Maylin a look that bluntly said 'We'll be seeing them again soon.' Maylin smirked and nodded in agreement before passing inside to the cool quiet of the Houses of Healing. It took all of two minutes to find poor little Pippin, sitting faithfully by his companion's side. There was Merry, lying still and cold in the bed that was much too large for him, caught up in the terrible black desert caused by the Black Breath.

"Hello," Jack said after a moment.

Turning his head around, Pippin caught sight of his battle-worn visitors and smiled, although the smile was weak and weary.

"Hullo," he replied. "I am very glad that you are both safe and well, my friends. I'm afraid Merry..."

"I will tell you something, Pip," Maylin said, crouching down to see eye-level with the hobbit. "Gandalf will wring my neck if he finds out, but you won't tell him, so all's well. Merry will be fine. Just you wait and see, everything will turn out right as rain before the end. Now, we need a bit of your help, master hobbit."

"Have you seen Leigh loitering around somewhere?" Jack asked with a smirk.

"No," Pippin shook his head apologetically. "The last I saw of her, she was riding out of the front gate before I went up with Gandalf to rescue Faramir..."

"Blast," Jack muttered under his breath. "Thanks, Pip. We should probably go and look for her. Just watch, though. Right when we get worried, she'll come poking her head around the corner with that awful grin on her face."

Pippin looked from Merry to the two prophets, clearly torn. "Will he wake up soon?" he asked.

"Tonight, I think, after Aragorn comes," Maylin shrugged. "It'll take some time after that for him to recover fully."

"In that case," Pippin declared, "I'm coming with you. Leigh might need my help more than Merry does."

"Thank you, Pip," Maylin beamed. Quickly, she bent forward and placed a peck on her small friend's cheek. "Let's go."

.O.O.O.

The search went on for about two hours with just the three, not counting Fengel, looking for Leigh out on the battlefield. Everyone thought that is was a safe assumption that she had not returned to the city, because if she had she would have probably gone to the Houses of Healing to find Pippin and reunite with her friends. The bodies began to blur before their eyes, and all began to worry. Limbs were scattered over the bloodstained grass and the occasional weapon was seen where it had fallen, still bearing chunks of flesh from its last victim. None of these sights were settling for the searchers.

After a while, they voted to return to the city in hopes of finding more help, or their quarry alive and well. The long, twisting streets seemed endless as they ascended through the various levels, and the sight of the Houses of Healing were never more welcome. As they walked down the halls, they found a very welcome troop of comrades walking down the way towards them.

"Ah, Jack and Maylin!" Gandalf greeted affectionately. "And Pippin! We have been wondering what became of you. Pippin, your timing is fortunate; we go now to Merry's bedside. Aragorn has already done all in his power for the Steward and the Lady Eowyn, who is now with her brother. Come, we must not waste time!"

As they went entered the room, Jack and Boromir acknowledged each other with a nod, and then the search for Leigh was put on hold for a few minutes while the brave hobbit in the bed was cared for by the future king. The moment he was done, however, and all but Pippin had once again left the room, Maylin seized Gandalf's sleeve and commanded the attention of the others.

"Leigh is still missing," she said with fear in her voice. "We cannot find her anywhere, and no one knows anything about what has happened to her except that she rode out of the gate after the Witch King left."

Gandalf frowned and a graveness fell over his features which had been lightened by the reunion of the two hobbits. "I feared evil would come of my absence, and now it is proved a greater evil than I had feared."

"Leigh missing?" Gimli roared. "Give me the word and I will set off in a heart's beat to find that girl!"

"As will I," Legolas said solemnly.

"We all shall," Aragorn told them. "No one has seen her?"

"No one," Jack confirmed.

Boromir remained deathly silent, but the glint of fear and anger sparking in his eye was unmistakable. Once again, Jack was aware of Boromir returning to his good graces. Maylin had long since let her guard down around the Gondorian, although she held judgement until the fateful and inevitable meeting with Leigh. Now that meeting may never come.

The grim and silent party returned to the field of battle and began searching among the dead and mortally wounded for their lost companion. A strange sight they made, Elves, a wizard, a future king, men and a Dwarf, all looking with trepidation for a familiar face. Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, went quickly away and told the Rangers of the missing member of the Four, and soon the search party was greatly increased. However, even as they searched, Maylin felt a sick fear that she might not even recognize the face of her beloved friend amidst the hewed bodies all around her.

At long last, Aragorn's voice echoed over the Pelennor as he called Gandalf to him as he bent over something sprawled on the ground. Quickly, the old wizard and every other soul out searching that night gathered round to see what Aragorn had found. Jack and Maylin fought their way to the open circle in the middle of the crowd along with the other members of the Fellowship. Maylin screamed and buried her face in Legolas's chest when she saw the body lying before her.

For there was Leigh, laying just as she had when the Witch King tossed her away like a rag doll. Three long, black arrows were imbedded in her body, one roughly six inches below her right shoulder, another about a foot lower, and a third in her left side. Long grey welts were raised all around her neck from where the Lord of the Nazgul's gauntlet had choked her, and her face was painfully white.

Boromir crashed to the ground by the girl's side with a loud wail that was heard even in the city's upper levels. His head fell into his hands and he rocked back and forth in agony as Gandalf came and bent next to Aragorn. Gimli was cursing fiercely in Dwarvish even as he fought against the rebellious mist rising in his eyes. Beside Maylin, Jack stood like one made of stone, unable to believe that Leigh was dead. For a few moments, the wizard and the ranger held a whispered conference before they straightened and addressed the crowd gathered around them.

"Save your tears," Gandalf ordered. "She yet lives, though her wounds are grievous, and she has been left unattended for far too long. Come and be of use!"

Aragorn summoned a few of his Rangers, and they stepped forward to bear Leigh back into the City while Boromir stayed steadfastly by her side and her closest friends trailed a hand's breadth away. Quickly, a room was found in the Houses of Healing, and Leigh was set in a white bed that was rapidly stained by the blood dripping from her.

Gandalf then turned to those in the room and said gravely, "Leave us, all but Aragorn and the sons of Elrond, who have some training in healing. There is nothing more you others can do." Without another word, he closed the door in their faces.

A/N: Am I bad? Oh, yes. Say 'Black Breath' if you have read my author's notes! Runs and hides behind shield-wall Alright, please REVIEW now!


	56. The Grey House

Disclaimer: I have really long hair... but I don't own LOTR.

A/N: Hullo again! I am so happy, you guys gave me, like, TWELVE reviews for the last chapter!!!! Hip-hip-huzzah! Anywho, um, I would just like to let you know that we are indeed drawing towards the end of Prophecy, but it will be a few weeks before we come to that end, because I will be going on vacation next Sunday and will be gone for two weeks. Yeah. Stop yelling! I deserve a vacation! I will try to write out by HAND some of the stuff, but I promise nothing. So there. Well, I think I'll shut-up now.

The Grey House

The wall against Jack's back was cold and he desperately wished that he could go and curl up in one of the nearby rooms and go to sleep. However, his thoughts would undoubtedly keep him awake if he tried with thoughts of his friend lying half-dead in the room across the hall, so he stayed where he was, watching the door silently. The others had stayed as well, at least they had stayed in the Houses of Healing. Legolas had swept Maylin away to the garden where she could be comforted by the stars, but Gimli, a handful of Rangers, and of course Boromir had remained in the hallway. As of yet, Pippin had not come out from Merry's room to receive the news concerning Leigh, and Jack did not relish the idea of telling him. Gimli at least served as a distraction, if a pitiable one. The poor Dwarf was torn between rage and tears, resulting in angry curses spat in Dwarvish as tears trickled into his thick beard. Jack knew far better than to offer support to the Dwarf.

Nearly every angry thought and feeling Jack had housed against Boromir had melted away as he watched the rough-and-tumble Gondorian standing directly across from the door, staring at it like he could see through it. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes danced with pain. No doubt he was blaming himself, even though Leigh might very well have suffered a similar fate even if she had come with Aragorn or the Rohirrim. This would have been weak solace, though, so Jack stayed quiet and let the man be. Nothing he could say or do would change what had happened, and there was no need to badger the pain with words.

A thought dawned slowly in the back of the boy's mind as he stood in the evening quiet, surrounded by pain and loss. His harp had been slung on his back the moment he had led Fengel to a stall, and it hung there now, dangling over his shoulder. With lithe fingers, he undid the strings holding the flap shut, and gracefully pulled the elegant harp from its sack. His hands ran over the instrument with loving familiarity, and they gently reassured him that no damage had been done to it during the long trip. Almost without thinking, Jack's fingertips brushed up against the taut strings which breathed out a sweet refrain. In those few notes, Jack's soul fled away, and his hands were left stroking the harp in a hopelessly devoted melody that sang of golden glories under the towering trees. His spirit soared in the high clouds and bathed in the clear waters of Nimrodel, his fingers playing all the while, translating his emotions into pure music. At times the harp sang light, free notes of light and laughter, but more often plunged into bittersweet despair, mourning for the beauty that was gone.

In his ecstasy, Jack did not see the tears sliding down Gondorian's face near him.

.O.O.O.

Inside the room, the healers set about their work with grim determination. Even as they felt over the wounds and sent for the needed supplies, they could feel the girl's life slipping away through their fingers. If only she had been found sooner... then perhaps her chances would have been better. As things stood, her life was leaving her, and her grievous wounds gaped horribly at those who tried to heal them.

Tenderly, Aragorn touched the skin around the various arrows, desperately hoping while fearing all the while. The wounds were bad by themselves, but the old Ranger knew that there was more here than met the eye. Judging by the thick welts around her neck, he thought that she had been attacked and choked by one of the Nine, most likely their leader from all that he had heard. If the wounds besides the welts had been from a Nazgul, he might have given up hope, but he arrows were orc-make, he was sure of it. Leigh suffered only from Black Breath at the hands of the Witch King, and her body had revolted at the his icy touch, but that was all the welts were, they would dissipate in time if she lived. If she lived...

"How bad, Aragorn?" Gandalf asked apprehensively once he had closed the door. "How bad is she?"

"She has been poisoned by a Nazgul," Aragorn sighed, "besides the obvious wounds."

Elladan and Elrohir approached the opposite side of the bed and gazed sadly at its occupant. "What may we do to aid you, Estel?" Elrohir asked.

"We must first remove the arrows, but it would ease my mind to have athelas at hand," Aragorn said slowly.

Elladan produced a small knife from his array of weapons and Aragorn held it over a candle-flame until he was satisfied. Grimly and hesitantly, he looked from the little blade to the unconscious girl before him. Then, with firm eyes, he began to cut a slit to draw the first arrow out through. In her misted slumber, Leigh gave a slight start and whimpered. Gandalf moved gracefully to stand by the head of the bed and stroke the girl's hair and face while the future king labored. The arrows conjured grey doubts in Aragorn's mind as he slowly pulled them from Leigh's body. If they had been poisoned, there would be nothing he could do, and she would die despite his greatest care. He had no way of knowing if they were the usual sort of arrows, or if they had been dipped in a dark brew to rush death. There was nothing he could do in either case, so he simply continued to work in grim silence.

As he removed the last arrow, Aragorn wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, but froze mid-motion as he saw his hands. They were covered in blood, Leigh's blood. Aragorn's breath rattled in his mouth, and his defenses crashed down for the first time that day. After all of the death he had seen, and all of the healing he had done, this troubled him the most. Leigh was by far the youngest that he had needed to heal, and there was no guarantee that she would even live through the night. Here was someone who didn't even belong to Middle-Earth, and she just might die for it. His eyes closed and he leaned back on his heels.

A light hand settled on his shoulder, and Aragorn looked beside him to see Elladan standing there with a passive smile on his face.

"We shall finish this, little Estel," he said quietly. "Rest for a moment."

Nodding, Aragorn rose and went to sit on a bench that was set against the wall. He rested his head in his hands as he listened to the muffled sounds of his elvish 'brothers' sewing up the gaping holes left in Leigh's shoulder and sides. Gandalf still stood at his post, murmuring comforts as Leigh felt the pain in her dream-like state. No doubt the Black Breath intensified the discomfort, no matter what realm of un-reality she was drifting in.

"Ah, Leigh," the future king whispered to himself, "how did you come to this?"

.O.O.O.

Boromir drifted off down the hall to look in on his brother. The day had been a harsh one for him. Once they had entered the city, Gandalf had informed them of his father's wild death in the licking flames of his funeral pyre. He had born this with a muffled exclamation, but had held his peace, suffering the loss deep within. When he had been told of Faramir's condition, Aragorn had taken the time to reassure his brother in arms, but he was still sorely wounded by his brother's state. There had been little time to speak with him earlier, knowing that his brother should rest and that there was still more that needed doing before the day ended.

Now, with the fresh grief of his beloved's possibly mortal wounding, Boromir wandered back to Faramir's room in the Houses of Healing, whether to seek or give solace he knew not. Faramir was just waking from a foggy sleep when his brother entered, and he smiled tiredly in greeting, but the smile faded quickly as he saw the look on Boromir's face.

"What has happened?" Faramir asked in a whisper. "Boromir?"

For a moment, Boromir remained silent as he went to window and leaned on the sill, gazing out into the moon-lit night. The air was taut with suppressed emotions and great loss, and a heavy dread settled on Faramir as he watched his dear brother. He did not press him, though. What need be said should come its own time.

"Leigh has... been gravely injured in the battle," Boromir forced out at last, the strain of tears kept in check thickening his voice.

"The young prophetess that Gandalf brought with him?" Faramir murmured, thinking back on all he had heard. "Oh, Boromir..."

"She would not have been there had I not acted so foolishly," Boromir growled. "I have lost my father, nearly lost my brother, and am losing Leigh."

"Is there any hope for recovery?" Faramir asked quietly.

"I know not," Boromir replied as his voice finally cracked. "Mithrandir has ordered out all but Lord Aragorn and the two sons of Elrond, the Elf. No one knows how she fares within."

"I am sorry," Faramir said, looking away. "She is... a good woman."

Boromir turned slowly from the window and looked at his brother. "Did you speak with here ere she fell?"

"We spoke once together," Faramir acknowledged. "I passed on news to her of one of her kind, lady Jaden, whom I met in Ithillien. She also came with my men to Osigiliath, and we fought together there... It is my belief that she still harbors feelings for you, my brother, as unsure as they may be."

Boromir bowed his head and lapsed into silence. At length, without looking up, he said, "Would that I could take back my folly on the road from Isengard. I might claim that some foul deed of Saruman's stirred the words within me, but I know as well as she that such a claim would be a lie. Ah, Faramir, my dear brother, what have I done?"

"You have acted foolishly," Faramir replied simply. "But even fools may be redeemed."

.O.O.O.

The stars were glimmering in a festival of swirling lights in the velvety skies. After their long absence during Sauron's attack, they rejoiced as they smiled down at the land below them, watching the two Elves in the gardens of the Houses of Healing.

Maylin's thoughts were neither bright nor joyful. The days sailing up the Anduin had been tense but not unpleasant. There had been the constant fear of arriving too late, despite the great risk they had taken in passing through the mountain. However, Legolas had been there with her, and, while they held to their commitment that they had made in the quiet night before they entered the Paths of the Dead to not look too far into the future, much had passed between them. Their loyalty to each other had magnified ten-fold, and every moment spent in one another's company was a happily silent delight. Maylin often wondered how she had missed the deep feelings in those bottomless blue eyes that watched her from a distance. Legolas had mentioned briefly that they would travel to Mirkwood if the war should ever end, and if they should live, and he would present her to his royal family. Deep down, the girl laughingly wondered if he had any brothers. She had several acquaintances back home that would jump for joy if he did.

All of her happy dreams had come crashing down around her ears when she had seen Leigh's body on the Pelennor. Now Legolas's gentle arm was wrapped around her in comfort, and her own bright eyes were shining with tears. Together, the two girls had envisioned coming to Middle-Earth countless times when they were younger, and now they had met with disaster when the dream was finally realized. True, Maylin was standing with the man that half of the female population back home wanted to swoon over, but it was all meaningless if her friends weren't there to enjoy it with her. Leigh was dying inside the sweeping building behind her, and Jaden was who-knows-where, possibly dead herself.

The leaping wind fingered through Maylin's hair as she stood looking out over the devastated field spread out before Minas Tirith, and she wondered how the women of Gondor managed it; living with the knowledge that most of your family was dead or dying, and the boys you played with as a child were lying in pieces throughout the mud and gore. It was too much for Maylin's mind to handle at the moment, and she looked away towards a tree that bowed over the path a little ways ahead of them. Tugging on her beloved's sleeve, Maylin looked up into Legolas's eyes.

"Can we walk for a bit?" she asked.

"Of course," Legolas smiled down at her.

Slipping her arm through his, they began strolling down the little path that wound between the varying herb and flower beds. Both of them were slightly stained and dirtied from the battle, but anyone watching them wouldn't have noticed, just as they did not. High above, the moon glowed gently and filled the garden with a pearly light, befitting the two Elves walking through it. When they passed under the small tree that was overhanging the path, Legolas looked up with a quiet smirk and rustled the leaves with his long fingers.

"This is very much like how we first met," he remarked.

"Hmm?" Maylin hummed.

"You were sitting a tree very similar to this one," Legolas elaborated, "and I happened to pass beneath it."

Maylin looked up into the merrily twisting boughs and sighed. "That was such a very long time ago."

"Oh, not that long," Legolas beamed down at her. Suddenly, he stopped by the tree and lifted Maylin up to the lowest bough before she could object. In a flash he was beside her, and the young eleth rested her head on his shoulder. As the milky shadows shifted around the base of the tree, the affianced pair watched the silver ribbon of the Anduin winding away into the distance.

.O.O.O.

The night went on, and Jack stayed at his post by the door, his hands eventually falling still on the strings of his instrument. There was no conversation among the grey folk standing outside of the little room, and a heavy silence spoke volumes of their emotions instead. Maylin and Legolas eventually drifted back, with Maylin half-asleep, most likely lured by the pale magic of the moon and stars besides the exhaustion from the fight. Carefully, Legolas escorted her to a bench that sat by the wall, where he sat with her while she fell into an uneasy slumber beside him. Jack gave his elven friend a nod of appreciation for distracting Maylin, and then bent his eyes towards the door once more. Boromir also returned shortly after the star-struck couple, and leaned against the wall with far less amorous relief. The man's cool grey eyes were fixed unmoving on the door that stood between him and the girl that had stolen his heart all those months ago.

Only a few minutes after Boromir came back to his post by the entrance to Leigh's room, yet another figure appeared out of a room down the hall. At first the armored figure paused and looked uncertainly at those gathered down the way, but he swiftly overcame his doubts, whatever they might have been, and approached them. Soon it was clear the features belonged to Eomer, the new King of the Mark, still clad in his heavy leather armor and his messy golden hair hanging around his shoulders. Seeing the noble company gathered there, he gave a nod of recognition and then frowned.

"What has brought so many great lords to stand guard by a single door?" he asked in a puzzled voice. "And where are Lord Aragorn, and Mithrandir, and the two elven lords who rarely leave Aragorn's side?"

"They are within," one of the Dunadain said solemnly. "A great evil has befallen us: the young prophetess, lady Leigh, has fallen in battle. Even now, those whom you have mentioned are even now trying to save the girl's life, for she fell under three arrows and has been untended probably since you came to the field of battle."

Eomer blanched and looked towards the door with deep sorrow and concern. His strong face was already heavy with the weight of his sister's injuries, but now it looked deeply marked by anxiety.

"It is indeed a black day, though the sun has returned," he said gravely. His eyes passed over Jack and Maylin and all those gathered by the solid door, but came to rest on Boromir, who had not turned when he arrived.

"Lord Boromir," Eomer called, "I would speak with you alone."

Slowly, as if he could hardly bear to take his gaze away from the door, Boromir raised his head and left the wall to walk with the new King of Rohan to a more secluded place. Eomer led the other lord away from the crowd and passed down several silent corridors until they came out into a gleaming courtyard whose silence was disturbed only by the babble of a lone fountain in its center. Here Eomer turned and looked upon his companion in the white light of the moon, clearly casting about for words.

"You know well that I bear feelings for lady Leigh," Eomer said uncertainly. "What you do not know is that I have now had time to reflect fully on all that she has said to me, and what exactly my own feelings towards her are."

Boromir stayed silent but his eyes glinted with acute awareness, seizing on every word the man of Rohan uttered.

"I have come to believe," Eomer continued, "that my feelings for young Leigh are indeed very strong, but as a close friend and sister, and not what I had first thought. As I am sure you are well aware, her... exoticness... attracts much attention and often creates quite a puzzle for the senses. For my part, I am sorry for whatever feelings of wrath I have stirred in you against me, and hope that I may continue on in my new kingship as your friend and the friend of Lady Leigh."

For a moment there was complete silence in the courtyard. Then the babble from the fountain caught in Boromir's eyes and he bowed his head to the new King.

"It should be my great honor to remain as your friend," he replied. "I might have laughed, but with the fell happenings of this night..."

"I understand," Eomer nodded. "Now, I shall go back with you and stand wait outside the lady's chambers until word is sent out to us."

They passed silently back through the halls together, moving like two weighted shadows slipping through the night. One conflict was now resolved. Both loved the same woman, but in different ways.

Jack noticed the change almost instantly when he looked over his shoulder to see the return of the Gondorian and man of Rohan. The two of them were almost walking in step, and Jack was relieved to see that the two men were at least on good terms, and he wouldn't have to worry about a fight breaking out while he waited for the door to open with news from inside.

Once again, silence reined, and only whispers of noises from the other rooms did anything to disturb the steeled silence of the night. Suddenly, Jack was aware that he was cold, and he unconsciously pulled his elven cloak just a little tighter around his shoulders. His fingers plucked invisible strings as they hung at his sides, and his eyes drifted shut as the sweet lure of Lorien pulled him away from the tragic night in Gondor.

Then next thing he knew, there was a gentle creak from the ominous door that thundered in the sound-deprived ears of those waiting outside like a clap of thunder. Slowly, Aragorn's pallid face came into view around the opening door and he opened his mouth to speak.

"I have done what I can," he told them. "She is fighting, but the time spent in such exposure on the field has done her no favors. What she needs now is rest. In the morning you may return, and with luck I will have better news. For now, I must retire, for tomorrow will bring troubles of its own, and I too need my rest. Jack, Maylin, and the members of the Fellowship may wait up for any sign if they choose. I now bid you goodnight, and I shall see you again come morning." Aragorn then stepped down the hall, placed his hands on Jack and Maylin, who had awoken in time for the news, and went back to the camp outside the gate. The Dunadain followed him along with the sons of Elrond, who also acknowledged their friends, and Eomer took that time to depart to bed as well, leaving the afore mentioned group standing nervously at the entrance to the room.

Gandalf hobbled up, leaning on his staff and looking worn with fatigue and sorrow, but he managed a small smile for the frightened younger members of the Fellowship, and offered to fetch Pippin to them before he retired to the small apartment he had so recently shared with the hobbit and Leigh.

As the old wizard left the room, the remaining two of the Four along with Legolas, Boromir and Gimli slipped in and gathered around Leigh's bed. Her face was almost deathly pale from the loss of blood, and her hair was matted with sweat. Aragorn and his assistants had done a few things to clean the blood from Leigh's face and Maylin was immensely grateful, glad that she didn't have to look at the blood in her friend's hair and the crusting gore on her face. Legolas, ever the princely gentleman, brought a white wooden chair for Maylin to sit in while she watched her friend. Gimli had fallen utterly silent and shuffled in with his head bowed and eyes downcast. Beside Maylin, Jack sat down cross-legged on the smooth floor to await developments while Boromir simply took his place in the ring and watched.

.O.O.O.

Night whispered out through the narrow windows and fled away to the east as the sun peeked over the horizon to peer in the window of Leigh's room, where she still lied completely still in her Nazgul-induced stupor. Only Boromir now remained, Legolas having at last carried Maylin away when she fell asleep, and Jack being coaxed away by Gimli to catch a brief bit of shut-eye before dawn came upon them. Pippin had come and gone, dashing between the two rooms of his friends until he was dead tired and fell asleep by Merry's side. The muscular man's head was bowed in his hands as he drifted in and out of a light sleep, always keeping an ear out for any sign from the young woman asleep in the bed before him. Soon Aragorn would come, most likely with Gandalf, and he would check the development of the patient.

Shaking himself from his drowsiness, Boromir lifted his head to look at the girl's face that was frozen in a coma-like sleep. Then Boromir noticed two things. One- Leigh's cheeks looked like they had regained some of their color, and two- her breaths were noticeably deeper. His own breath caught in his throat, and he gingerly reached out a hand to touch her forehead. Heat had returned to her body, and her face no longer felt frozen and dead as it had the night before.

Suddenly, Leigh's eyelashes flickered against her ivory cheeks and she moaned out a name. "Boromir."

The Gondorian's voice caught as he tried to answer, but after a moment he whispered back, "I'm here."

This seemed to bring Leigh out of her dreaming state, whether from the focus needed to understand the words, or the comfort of a familiar voice and presence it was not known. Whatever it was, it pulled Leigh back to the land of the living and she took a deep breath before blinking herself into alertness. For a moment, she squinted and frowned up at the ceiling, trying to piece together who and where she was. Then her eyes focused, and the events of the previous day came back in detail... too much detail. She closed her eyes again for a moment, and Boromir saw a look of intense pain sweep over her face. Cautiously then, as if she was afraid of shattering a dream she didn't quite believe in, she rolled her head to the side and looked at Boromir who was still sitting beside her.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hello," Boromir replied.

"How long have I been away?" Leigh asked slowly.

"Half of a day and a night," Boromir told her, watching her face intently. "Are you... in much pain?"

"Yeah," Leigh smirked, unable to help herself. Leave it to Boromir to ask the obvious questions.

"I am a fool," Boromir blurted out. "What I said... I was a fool, and I am sorry, though I know that can never compensate for what I have done."

"I forgive you," Leigh whispered.

Boromir froze and then slowly leaned closer to Leigh's face. For a moment neither of them moved, hovering just a few inches apart, and then Boromir closed the distance in an almost timid kiss.

"I suppose I should have knocked," a wryly amused voice came from the doorway.

Immediately, both parties involved in the kiss pulled back and looked towards the door while Leigh turned a bright shade of tomato-red. Aragorn stood in the doorway, holding a bowl of steaming water and a handful of leaves that Leigh would have bet her life were athelas. There was a little smirk playing around the corners of his stubbly mouth, and beside her, Boromir chuckled a little, passing his fingers back through his hair which was thoroughly disheveled.

"I brought more treatments for our ailing friend," the old Ranger said as he stepped around to the far side of Leigh's little bed, "and I believe when she comes down from her cloud she will realize just how much she needs them."

For a moment Leigh's mind spun. 'What?' Then the next moment three spikes of pain thrust down into her and she gasped. Aragorn simply made a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like 'told ya so.' The dawn was still young, and there was still time before most sane persons were awake and about. Leigh moaned again.

"You weren't supposed to come here again," she said hoarsely. "I messed things up."

"It is far better for you to have 'messed things up' just a little than the alternative," Aragorn informed her. "If I had not come this morning, it would have meant that you were dead, and that would have been a far greater loss for me than an idle hour wasted ministering to an unruly patient."

As he spoke, Aragorn crushed the leaves he had brought with them and placed them in the steaming water which swiftly began sending out sweet smells like salty sea breezes or woodland drafts. He fetched a cloth from a small table nearby and soaked it in the bowl as Leigh breathed in the soothing steam. Boromir looked on idly as his future king carefully washed the streaks of grey on Leigh's neck with the warm water and cloth. For a minute, the welts stung, and Leigh hissed when the water dripped on them, but soon the pain melted away with the curling tendrils of evaporating water and was replaced by wonderfully relaxed muscles.

Once he was finished, the future king stood and bade his farewell to the two after inquiring after Leigh's improvements and 'requesting' that Boromir stay there with his beloved until he had need of him again. Then Leigh's weariness, which she had not noticed before, crept up over her eyes and tugged her away in a tiny sailboat to the isle of dreams. By her bedside, Boromir stroked her hands and smiled as he watched the young woman sleep.

A/N: Are you happy now? I killed off a main character in one of my other fics, so for the immediate present my blood-lust is satisfied, I suppose. Well, please say 'hippo' in your review if you have read my author's notes. Why? Because it was the first thing to pop into my head. See you around!


	57. Healing

Disclaimer: I own... two birds and the scrappy beginnings of a novel... and the Four... that's it. Lord of the Rings is not on the list.

A/N: Greetings, my faithful readers! I know you are missing the loverly action, but I swear it should return in the next chapter, which I will hopefully post before I leave this weekend. Ok? Ok. I might be able to upload more chapters and just post them while I'm gone as well... we shall see. Anyway! Enjoy this chapter! Oh! I've forgotten! I have a new beta! Say hello to the beta! They have been with me for like the past chapter or two, so, yeah. I would also just like to say... THIS CHAPTER HAD NO ERRORS! Yay! Does victory dance I know how to SPELL! Yeah, I'm done, enjoy! I must get back to writing a mini-report on Thutmose III...

Healing

The streets were bright and alive with people as Jack, Maylin, Legolas and Gimli walked up the winding ways to the Houses of Healing. The past evening had been spent in the camp of the Rangers at the foot of the city walls, and they had risen late after the long night they had shared by Leigh's bedside. Aragorn had returned just before their departure, and he had gladly informed them of Leigh's improved condition. So long as she rested and did not join in another battle in the near future, he had said, she should make a full recovery. This news had lightened the moods all in the little party, and they walked along the white-paved streets with an easy pace, looking at the amazing city that was rising up all around them.

"Someone pinch me," Maylin had muttered under her breath once, "I'm walking through Minas Tirith." Jack, of course, obliged her, and she didn't say anything along those lines aloud again.

Jack and Maylin had conscientiously told their two companions of the upcoming debate that would take place that morning in Aragorn's tent, asking if they would rather stay or see to Leigh and Merry. Cheerily, they had both agreed that they would most likely not be needed in such a meeting, and happily accompanied their friends to the sprawling building which housed the wounded. All around were the signs of recent battle, but there was a relieved joy that shone down with the sun, and the many armies gathered there filled the empty streets of Minas Tirith as they had not been filled for many a year.

At last they came to the door that led into the grey House where the other members of their company were resting, and they stepped in quickly, heading first to Leigh's room. When they stepped inside, they were greeted by the shrieking orders of Ioreth, the eldest woman presently working in the Houses of Healing. She bemoaned this and gossiped about that until half the place was in a frenzy over her latest outburst. Deep down inside she was really a very good person, if a very loud one, and the four friends slipped by quietly, keeping to the shadows until they had passed her. Doubtless she would yell and fret over some vague command of Gandalf or Aragorn's that the patients needed their rest, deeming that as a command to keep out all visitors until further notice. The woman was officially overzealous in her duties. Regardless, they all reached Leigh's room safely and tip-toed in as quietly as possible, seeing her asleep in the bed. The sight of a heavy-set Dwarf trying to tip-toe almost ruined the silence in fits of giggles, but Jack and Maylin managed to contain themselves. Boromir looked up and nodded a greeting to them as they entered, and smiled for the first time in weeks.

"Aragorn said she was doing far better," Maylin said as she sat down by the bed. "Has she woken yet?"

"Yes," Boromir nodded, "earlier this morning."

"Well I wish she would wake up _now_," Gimli grumbled grouchily as he heaved himself up onto a stool. "We have come all this way to see her, it would make the trip worth while to get a little speech from her."

"Granted," a monotone voice drawled from the bed. Even Legolas started just a little bit, not having examined Leigh's breathing pattern thoroughly enough to have noticed that she was indeed awake.

"Yeek!" Maylin squeaked, falling out of her chair. Once she recovered and hauled herself to her knees, she popped her head over the side of the tiny bed and glared at her smirking friend. "You scared me half to death, I'll have you know, you conniving jerk."

"Well _I'll_ have you know that I was dozing, not deaf," Leigh retorted, smirk still painted on her face.

"Bravo, lassie!" Gimli applauded. "You startled two Elves with one word, a most impressive feat."

Leigh waved her hands in a bow as she was still unable to sit up properly and nodded graciously. "Thank you very much, master Gimli."

"Glad to see that your tongue wasn't injured," Maylin snorted. Leigh blatantly stuck her tongue out in reply and received the same childish gesture from her friend in return.

"Now, children," Jack rolled his eyes. Taking one look at each other, the two girls looked at Jack as one and stuck out their tongues at him in perfect synchronization.

The morning unwound in peaceful, shallow conversation, which Pippin placed a monopoly on when he arrived, and, for just a little while, the companions paid no heed to the black threat that loomed across the river. Beyond the vaulted roof, the sun was shining and life had seemingly returned to the city streets outside. There was no immediate cause for alarm, thus they simply ignored such minor trifles as the heavy bandages wrapped around one of their number and the lack of color in her face.

When Gandalf came, however, they were forced to turn back to the matters at hand. The council had decided to go to Mordor to give Frodo, Sam and Jaden a fighting chance. Most of the army, along with its leaders, would be leaving two days hence.

"I somehow doubt that you two would consent to staying behind," Gandalf sighed to Maylin and Jack, "seeing as how the last time Lord Aragorn tried to leave one of you behind, they found a way around the obstacle and still wound up in battle."

"Indeed," Jack nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're stuck with us," Maylin informed him flatly.

"I don't suppose I'd be allowed to go?" Leigh mumbled, suddenly fascinated with the hem of her simple white blanket.

"No, don't suppose so," Gimli said in a voice that was half cheerful, half reproving.

With a gentle look, Gandalf shook his head at his despondent little friend. "It is not wise, Leigh, and you know that very well."

"Can't help hoping," Leigh shrugged, now eager to change the subject.

From where he stood by the door, Jack saw Boromir shaking his head with a light smile. The poor man had yet to find out how truly stubborn Leigh could be. At least she hadn't tried to guilt-trip anyone into sneaking her into the ranks to fight before the Black Gate... she must really be feeling awful.

Gandalf continued to hand out orders, so-and-so had to ride by so-and-so, and made sure to tell Leigh before leaving that she was to obey Faramir once the rest of the Fellowship had left.

"I see how it is," Leigh huffed mockingly. "I almost _die_, am ordered to remain in _bed_, and the great and powerful wizard just stops by to bark out a few commands. Don't I even get a normal 'hello?'"

"Hello, Leigh," Gandalf chuckled. "It was rather ogreish of me, wasn't it? Well then, how are you feeling this fair day?"

"Better but still in highly notable pain," Leigh sniffed.

"Serves you right," Gandalf admonished. "Maybe next time you'll think twice about riding out helter-skelter into the middle of a battle without any assistance."

Leigh gasped and pretended to be offended, but the wise old wizard knew her far too well for such antics and simply laughed as he turned and began to head for the exit. As their fearless leader walked out the door, Boromir was quick to reassure Leigh.

"My brother will take excellent care of you in my absence," he said firmly. "I will speak to him myself before leaving."

"I should hope you'd have a moment to spare for him," Leigh raised her eyebrows, "he's your brother after all."

Boromir was on the verge of saying something, probably in the amorous genre, when Maylin leapt to intervene. True, she and Leigh were good friends, fabulous friends, but she had no desire to see Boromir melting into a love-stricken puddle as he delivered some romantic speech.

"I haven't met Faramir yet," she interrupted. Once again, Leigh stuck out her tongue, this time in triumph.

"Haha, I met him first," she jeered.

The corner of Legolas's mouth twitched as he watched the three 'foreigners' jabber and taunt one another. "There are many things about the Four that I have come to understand with time," he mused aloud, "but I am afraid there are some things pertaining to you that I shall never riddle out."

"Well," Jack shrugged, "we'll certainly keep you on your toes then."

"Ye have been keeping us on our toes from the first day we met in Rivendell," Gimli grumbled, frowning over his axe.

Soon, all present, including Boromir, were forced to leave Leigh for the time being to attend to other duties. While it had been wonderful to pretend that Middle-Earth only extended to the four walls of the snug little room, reality beckoned with firm resolve and they had no choice but to follow. Thus it was that Leigh, unofficial leader of the Four, found herself all alone in that expansive grey house. The plain walls of her room were only relieved in their simplicity by the occasional shelf littered with healing supplies and common herbs and a single window that looked out over the city and a small part of the gardens outside. Of course, Leigh couldn't see much besides the sky from her present angle, and she soon found herself bored to distraction in the minuscule room.

The sweet noises of birds and chatting people echoed just out of sight and reach, and the girl was tormented by the regular sounds of footfalls passing by outside her room that never stopped at her door. Suddenly she had gone from the most visited patient to the patient who was least needed. Now she knew exactly how the hobbits had felt so often on this wild ride. Everyone else had the world under control, and she was just a fifth wheel, unnecessary and unneeded. Her fighting skills had always rendered her somewhat helpful, but at the present she was just another body in a tiny little bed in a cramped little room in one hallway full of doors out of many. Her friends were busy with new duties and caring for their new friends (Jack had been sure to tell her about Fengel), and she was left to mildew between the snowy linen sheets.

At the moment she was far too sore to move. It was doubtful that she would even be able to sit up properly for a few more days, and then she would be agony when she tried to start walking again. Every time she took a breath, the three wounds stabbed and screamed hot rebukes, and the icy soreness around her throat had not fully dissipated as of yet. Not only was she a hindrance, she was hindrance that was in pain.

The depression, most likely brought on by the aftereffects of the Black Breath, crept into Leigh's mind whenever she was left alone to her unhappy and forlorn thoughts. At the sight of a friendly face, Boromir's in particular, the shadowy feelings left, but when she was left by herself once more in the grey little room, her thoughts were dark and clouded. Once, when Gandalf came to visit her, she confided in him concerning her strange moods, and the wizard had merely sighed, shaken his head, and told her that these would wear off in time, but she must bear them as best she could for the time being.

Aragorn did not return to see her, staying out of the city, doing all in his power to not be noticed by the people, but word was already spreading like a whispering breeze through the aspen leaves, and no one was ignorant of his presence. Ioreth was to thank for that. Stiff she may be, but her mind was as sharp as it had always been, and her tongue was well oiled. When the future king had healed four of those under her care with _athelas_ she had began gossiping instantly.

On the other hand, both Merry and Pippin frequently came by to see her, especially Merry who was situated just down the hall and was more than happy to sneak away from his bed to visit her. The Warden, who was above even the stubborn Ioreth, soon turned his attention to the two members of the Fellowship left in his keeping. Of all the members of the Fellowship, he had undoubtedly received two of the worst when it came to obeying orders and taking care of themselves. Even before the army left for the final battle against Sauron, Leigh and Ioreth were pitted in, well... not a war exactly, but certainly a very severe battle of the wills. If the older woman caught Leigh trying to do _anything_ by herself, shrieking ensued. On the other hand, whenever Ioreth tried to help Leigh do common things like trying to feed herself, Leigh demanded that she stop and insisted that she was well enough to _hold a confounded spoon_. Merry and the other comrades, of course, found all this highly amusing. Unfortunately for him, Boromir received a heavy load of the blame whenever he let Leigh try to care for herself. They soon learned to post a sentry to warn of the 'old general's' approach.

When Maylin had a chance to be alone with her friend, she told her of all that had happened just before the Paths of the Dead, and Leigh was quick to congratulate her on her 'impending engagement,' as she phrased it, even though it was fairly official. However, when she tried to ask if anything was solidified between Leigh and Boromir, she was told in so many words to 'buzz off.'

The two days before her friends left to fight the last desperate battle flew by swiftly, filled with comings and goings all around the great white city. Jack and Maylin rode with Aragorn and their other allies at the head procession, and Maylin was arrayed in light chain mail and a leather surcoat to help protect her in the crush of battle. Jack wore the armor he had been given in Rohan as he sat astride Fengel, who had been spoiling for a battle the moment he had recovered from the one he had just been through. Before they left, Jack and Maylin came alone to see their fellow compatriot before setting out to meet fate for once and for all.

"Now you know how I felt," Jack teased. "You all left me behind in Lothlorien when I got slashed."

"Yeah," Leigh snorted. "I swear to never leave you behind due to injury ever again."

"Take care of yourself," Maylin ordered. "You may be the unofficial leader, but I'm the oldest, and I'm ordering you."

"Miss bossy," Leigh rolled her eyes. "The same goes for you."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Jack winked.

"Don't worry," Maylin said cheekily, "I won't let another orc run him through."

"Oooo," Leigh laughed. "That was rough."

"That was honest," her friend corrected, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"In all seriousness, take care of yourself, Leigh," Jack said.

"You, too," she smiled.

Then, suddenly, they were gone, and Leigh was left with a hobbit for company in the lonely city of Minas Tirith.

Leigh had been able to sit up the last day before her friends left, and she pressed her luck by requesting three balls of the same size, or some sort of fruit, and scored by receiving _four_ colored juggling balls. It had been some time since there had been anyone to use the brightly decorated toys, she was told, and she was welcome to them. Gleefully, she practiced her odd little skill and determinedly kept her hand-eye coordination in peak condition, not that she had ever had much to begin with. Merry was declared fit to rise, and he came even more often to spend the day with Leigh, since both of them were alone and practically friendless in the great stone city. It took all of five minutes for him to be utterly fascinated by the spinning, whirling balls that Leigh tossed and hurled from hand to hand.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked in wonder as Leigh worked on a new trick.

"Maylin and I learned it at about the same time," Leigh replied. "Of course, she picked it up a lot faster than I did. Took me about half a year to get the knack of it. Jaden taught us..."

Merry looked away from the balls and saw the saddened shadow across his friend's face. 'It would be like losing Pip, or how you feel about Frodo and Sam,' he thought to himself. Quicky, he reached out and snatched the spare ball resting in a fold of the bed that Leigh was still learning to add in and began tossing it back and forth between his hands.

"Well you could teach me!" he cried. "Then we can learn a few tricks to do together."

"Sure, why not?" Leigh asked, a smile brightening her face. She stopped tossing the three balls in her hands and handed one of them to Merry, instructing him in the fantastic art of juggling.

And so passed another day and a half, Merry only leaving to sleep, and returning with the sun. Even when they weren't working on tossing the balls around, they stayed together, sharing the same thoughts and feelings. Neither of them had wanted to be left behind, and ended up feeling severely out of place in their placid surroundings. Leigh continued to heal at a rapid rate, and the healers were astonished, asking her repeatedly if she were truly human. To be honest, Leigh was just as surprised, and wondered what other things had changed since her arrival in Middle-Earth.

Bright light was rushing in through the open window on the second day since Maylin and Jack left with Aragorn's army, as Leigh and Merry played a tricky game of catch with three balls. The four balls that Leigh had been given by the healers were each a different color. One was vivid red, another was royal blue, a third was green as the Pelennor, and the last was a hazy purple. At the moment they were tossing all of the cool colored balls, letting the red take a break. Leigh's shift-like dress that she had been forced to wear at least allowed free range of motion, and she could still easily throw and catch the hard little balls with relative ease. The Warden had actually praised the usage of the juggling balls, so long as she didn't over exert herself, claiming that the motion would help loosen the muscles and work the injured areas now that they were well under way with their healing.

The scene where Ioreth had exclaimed over Leigh's man-like clothing had been priceless to say the least. "Ladies dressing as men!" she had cried. "What will be next? Women regulars in the army? Valar, bless me, you need proper clothing!"

The long and the short of it was that Leigh soon found herself dressed in a simple white dress very common in the Houses of Healing, and she complained about the blasted thing every chance she got.

"You missed!" Merry shouted as the purple ball thudded into the pillow behind his teammate.

"It's these accursed sleeves," Leigh berated, flailing her arms and trying to loosen the already free-flowing material. "I can't do anything right in them."

"Hogwash," Merry replied. "Those sleeves aren't any trouble for you. It's those wounds, the shoulder one in particular, that pull and hurt when you move too much."

"Oh, wouldn't Ioreth just _love_ to hear _that_," Leigh retorted dramatically. "She'd tie me to the bed and bar the door if she could."

Merry snorted and went to look out of the window. Suddenly, a light dawned behind Leigh's eyes.

"Do you happen to see lord Faramir out there in the garden?" Leigh asked, wiggling in a vain attempt to get out of bed.

"Yes, I do, actually," Merry nodded. "He's walking around by himself."

"Well, at least we'll have something besides juggling to distract ourselves with," Leigh grinned, leaning back with her arms behind her head.

"What?" Merry asked, turned from the windowsill and bouncing back to sit on the bed. "What do you mean?"

"Shippy, shippy," Leigh laughed.

"Pardon?" Merry cocked his head.

"Ker-shippy!" Leigh explained merrily. "It's when two people start getting together in a romantic sense. 'Ship' is short for 'relationship.' It's just a fun word we crazy nuts like to use."

"Oh," Merry looked down. His head flashed back up and he asked, "Who's 'shippy?'"

"I wouldn't dream of spoiling it for you, my little friend," the girl smirked. "Just wait and see. Things will develop rapidly, this I swear."

Merry looked at the strange young woman in front of him. Her hair had been tamed by the respectable efforts of the ladies who cared for the injured women in the Houses of Healing, and her eyes held at this time the curious spark he had seen in them when they had first met in Rivendell. At the time, that mischievous glint had nearly scared him, but the calmly amusing Jaden had held her wilder friend in high regard, and he had gotten used to the crazy ways of the Four. Now, here the self same girl was, only with three arrow wounds in her and the vague grey stripes fading around her neck. Somehow, she always bounced back, and that was probably what had kept her alive this long.

"I don't think I shall ever understand you," he said.

"Most people don't," Leigh winked. "Teenage girls are a species unto themselves."

"That's exactly what I mean," Merry exclaimed, waving his arms. "It's like you _enjoy_ sticking out in a crowd."

Leigh tilted her head and looked at the hobbit for a minute as her eyes grew blurry and distant. Then, as if from the same distance as her eyes, she said, "You never really will understand. Where we come from, enjoying anything outside of 'normal' makes you weird, so we were proud to be different, and we flaunted it. Here, we're more like preserving our past, and who we are as individuals, so I guess that part of ourselves just sort of stuck with us."

After that, Leigh came back to herself and they continued with their game of catch.

.O.O.O.

Faramir and Eowyn drifted through the gardens lit by the smoky twilight, arm in arm. They walked in silence for the moment, gazing at the starry heavens and the flowers frozen in the grey light that slipped by around them. It was now the third day since they had met, and their walks had come to take up most of their time.

As Faramir lifted his eyes to look at the great house behind them, he saw a blond-haired figure watching from her window a short ways above. At his smirk, Eowyn also turned to look and smiled when she saw the girl watching them. Under other circumstances, she might have blushed and turned away in embarrassment, but the peaceful air of the garden and the friendly smirk of the young woman above wiped any discomfort from her mind and she offered a wave to the young lady. The girl's grin grew wider, she saluted them, Faramir laughed quietly, and she was gone from the window again.

"Who was that?" Eowyn asked. "Is she a maiden of this kingdom?"

"No," Faramir laughed. "She is lady Leigh, one of the Prophets of which there is so much recent talk."

"Oh! I had not recognized her," Eowyn exclaimed. "I met her but once, in Edoras, and then but briefly. She seems much changed since last I saw her."

"It does not surprise me," Faramir replied. "I spoke with her before the black tide broke upon our walls, and she seemed to me as one very young who has grown swiftly and suddenly. In truth, she had every right to watch us as she did, for I promised Boromir, my brother, to keep an eye on her, and I have not visited her once!"

"So she was injured then in the battle?" Eowyn asked. "She seems like one whom I could understand, her friend Maylin was much the same, only the elven blood in her veins tinted her view of the world as our blood tints ours. You say your brother wished you to care for her?"

"My brother holds... deep feelings for young Leigh," Faramir chuckled. "I believe their temperaments are well matched."

.O.O.O.

Late that evening, after he had parted from Eowyn in the garden, Faramir ascended the stairs to the upper level where Leigh resided in her small room. He paused by the heavy wooden door, unsure if the girl within was resting, but then he spied the flickering dance of candlelight from beneath the door, and he knocked once on the stately wood.

"Yes?"

Faramir pushed open the door and smiled at the surprised but happy look on Leigh's face as she saw him standing in her doorway.

"Well you certainly took your merry time," she laughed. "What would Boromir think?"

"He would understand," Faramir smirked as he came to sit in a chair positioned by the side of the bed, "for I believe he has endured feelings I have experienced of late."

"You are forgiven," Leigh said, waving her hand regally. Faramir laughed aloud and returned the silly little gesture.

"From what the Warden tells me, you have had no lack of company," the young Gondorian pointed out.

"Indeed," Leigh nodded. "That is why I forgave you."

Faramir laughed again. "I hope you and your friends do not stray far from Minas Tirith after this war, should Aragorn succeed."

Leigh shrugged. "Might not. We'll probably do our fair share of traveling, though. Why? Does something make you think that we will be living nearby?"

"At least one of you," Faramir shrugged. "If I am not mistaken, it is quite possible that we shall become in-laws."

"Oi," Leigh pulled out a pillow and whacked her head into it, "you are worse than Maylin, and that's saying something."

The man chuckled and grinned before bidding her goodnight, promising to visit her more often, and leaving her to sleep. For a little while longer, Leigh watched the flame dancing on the wick of her candle leap and sway. There were red dark shadows swirling across the placid walls that were now black as night, and Leigh wished that she was with her friends, facing the surging armies of Mordor.

A/N: So...? You like? I do! I think Ioreth is fun, in the funny old lady kind of way... if you have read the books, you probably recognize her... REVIEW!!! Say 'Ioreth' in your review, because I asked very nicely. Please?! Reviews make me happy! And what's more, I will be more inclined to at least write stuff out by hand while I'm on vacation if you people leave reviews...


	58. Cuckoo

Disclaimer: I am not rich, I am not old, and I do not own the Lord of the Rings. If I did, I would eat expensive ice cream everyday and be able to afford a special physical trainer to help me work off all the extra weight.

A/N: Greetings again! Here is another chapter, the last you will get for two weeks, I'm afraid. Don't cry! Just review a lot. Hinthint Don't you dare go thinking that this is the end, because it's not! Don't stop reading just because I have to go away for a little bit, ok?! I will cry! My birdies are being babysat by my dear friend, so I'm already lonesome as it is. Enjoy!

Cuckoo

The day was bright and fresh when the army rode out of Minas Tirith, and all those who were left behind watched with solemn hope from the walls as they rode and walked into the distance. Being positioned as she was by Aragorn, Gandalf, and the other leaders, Maylin was forced to quash the urge to take one last look at the white city that was receding from sight. For nearly all of the first day, though, it was still visible, squatting like a stubborn lump of snow in the middle of a vast, ruined field of mud and shattered weapons. They made it five miles past Osgiliath, where workers had already begun repairing the damage and throwing up fresh defenses, before they halted.

The cavalry, however, went on ahead a short ways and came to the ancient statue of the king that had been vandalized by marauding orcs. Jack and Maylin lent their own efforts in tumbling the deformed red rock serving as a head and shattering it to pieces before reverently returning the rightful face to the noble figure. Maylin stepped back and regarded the finished product with awe. To each of the four roads leaving the crossroads, one Aragorn's heralds went and decreed that this land was now returned to Gondor. Never, 'til the end of days, did those two foreigners forget the sight of the kingly statue sitting there in the glowing sunset. It was a glorious moment as the king, still crowned with white and gold flowers, returned to his throne. Here, so near the end, he returned to his seat of old, but still bore that which he had garnered in the time since.

After that, the days grew steadily darker in the hearts of the army as they approached the Black Land. The next day they passed the Morgul Vale, and orders were given to smash the bridge that spanned the stagnant river and light the gruesome fields on fire. But even this event did not cheer the souls of those who marched stubbornly to meet their fates, for even if Minas Morgul was ground to a fine dust and tossed in the sea, they would still have to face the imposing threat the Black Gates and face the army within.

It was grim lot that pressed on the next day, and by the sixth day, many quaked with each step they took. Then Aragorn turned and looked with mercy at the young men from the folds of Rohan or the shores of the sea and took pity on them, for Mordor had never been more than a distant nightmare to them, described in tales, not faced in wakefulness.

"Go!" he ordered them. "But keep what honor you may, and do not run! There is a task which you may attempt and so be not wholly shamed. Go to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies, as I think, then re-take it, if you can; and hold it to the last in defense of Gondor and Rohan!"

Many of those that had trembled in their boots overcame their fear at their leader's merciful words, and remained steadfast in their places. Others, however, took the opportunity and turned to the new task they had been set to, relieved and grateful. When they had come to the crossroads, Aragorn had ordered a portion of his men to remain, thus, they had less than six thousand now to storm the Gates with.

Finally, the desperate band of an army came within sight of the Towers of the Teeth, and there they halted, pitching their tents in the grey twilight and the crisp breeze that blew from the north. Maylin had been treated by everyone, excluding perhaps Jack, with the respect due to a high born lady, and a tent had been pitched for her alone near the center of the encampment, near that of Aragorn's and the other nobles who rode with him. Across the narrow way, Jack resided in a tent which he shared happily with Gandalf and Pippin, who were both modest and had no need of an entire tent unto themselves. In the dark nights, Maylin would shiver under the freezing fingers of wind that twisted through the fabric walls and stroked her skin into ice and long to be back on the lonesome trail with the Fellowship around her and Jaden's balls of leaves and dirt sailing through the air. They had come so far, now, from the isolated spot in the middle of the wild where they had sat under the guard of two brainless orcs. Together, they had crossed wildernesses, survived a mountain, bested the above mentioned orcs, learned to fight like they had only dreamed, and met more races than any of them could have possibly hoped to come in contact with. Now they were separated, scattered to the winds, and only she and Jack remained together. Leigh was back in Minas Tirith, keeping an eye on things and doing everything in her power to stave off the encroaching authority of Ioreth, and Jaden... who knew where Jaden was. The rest of them hadn't seen her for quiet some time, and now their friend had ventured behind the rocky curtain of the Mountains of Shadow, and the fate of a world might just be resting on her shoulders.

With a groan, Maylin swung the blanket off of her legs and stood up from the thickly layered bedrolls given to her in exchange for the nice warm beds of Minas Tirith. She blew out a breath and walked over to touch the spot on the tent wall where the bright moon shone through in a brilliant circle. Her fingers reached up and caressed the spot as she wondered if her other friends could see the moon's light from where they lied resting.

Personally, she had gone through so much change... She had learned a new way to defend herself, she had learned to understand the feelings of others, and... she had fallen in love. What changes had Jaden gone through?

From the entrance flap to her tent, someone cleared their throat and tried to knock, which only caused the fabric to bounce and snap.

"Yes, Jack?" Maylin grinned.

"Can I come in?" and exasperated voice sighed.

"Yeah, it's open," the elleth snickered.

Sighing, the lithe boy stumbled inside and sat down on Maylin's pile of bedding. His hair, which had grown considerably since their arrival, was disheveled from sleepless hours of tossing and turning. Beneath his eyes, the thin hint of dark circles curled sullenly, and the above them his eyes themselves were bloodshot and tired.

"I couldn't sleep," he informed his friend flatly.

Maylin snorted, "I gathered that."

Jack fell back and stared at the swaying canvas roof above him, hypnotized by its movements. "We're fighting tomorrow."

"I know," Maylin nodded. Suddenly a thought struck Jack and he sat up again, frowning at the girl standing nearby.

"You couldn't sleep either."

"No," Maylin shook her head. "Too much going on..."

Jack snorted, "I know the feeling."

"How is Pippin doing?" the elf asked. "I haven't exactly spoken much with him lately."

"He's nervous," Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, "but he doesn't understand the half of it yet. All he seems to get is that we are distracting Sauron's attention from Frodo, Sam and Jaden, I don't think the certain doom part has quite gone into that thick skull of his yet."

"It isn't certain doom," Maylin rolled her eyes. "If it was, we would've run as far away as possible, as you know very well."

"Well it might be our doom," Jack pointed out, sitting up again and propping himself up on his elbows. "Thus far we've been saved mostly by luck, that and the constant vigilance of our 'authentic Middle-Earthian' friends. Tomorrow's battle will end up driving us apart, and we won't be able to keep an eye on each other quite like we did before. Somehow I have the sneaking suspicion that luck will not look kindly on us, either. We've pressed it an awful lot lately, and I think we should just be glad that we got Leigh back in relatively one piece."

"True," Maylin said, bowing her head. After a moment, she looked up again and asked, "Do you think we're supposed to die here, then? Are we just supposed to do what we were supposed to and then go? That doesn't seem quite fair to me, we've made friends..."

"Fallen in love," Jack smirked coyly. Maylin puffed and waved the comment off. "No," Jack shook his head, "that just seems... unfinished. There is more to life than winning battles and fighting wars, that's what makes it worth living, that's why we fight those battles."

"Since when did you get so wise?" Maylin grumbled.

"Oh, just somewhere along the road. Don't remember exactly."

"And what, pray tell, are you two doing up at this hour?" a new voiced asked from the tent's entrance, which Jack had carelessly left hanging open.

Both young people turned around with guilty expressions to face Aragorn, their fearless leader, who stood with his arms folded in the doorway. Jack dropped his head and gazed straight down at the laces of his tunic, while Maylin began fiddling self-consciously with a loose thread in the white canvas of the wall she stood beside.

"We couldn't sleep," she said, not lifting her eyes to meet the future king's.

Aragorn sighed and stepped into the tent, crouching down to sit cross-legged on the floor and indicating that Maylin should follow suit. Obediently, Maylin folded down into a similar sitting position next to Jack and toyed with the sleeve of her shirt.

"I trust you know what tomorrow's battle may bring to us all," Aragorn said bluntly. "And I also trust that it is this knowledge that keeps you awake this night."

"More like what we don't know," Jack mumbled.

Aragorn sighed and tried to meet their eyes, but neither one of the young prophets would look up at him.

"Death hangs over us all, it is simply more tangible in a place like this," he told them. "I pray that the Valar will watch over you in the crush of battle, but if one of you should fall... know now that I have never met youths quite like yourselves in all of my life."

Maylin's head rose and she said with a cocky smirk, "I should hope not. Leigh would be insulted if you had."

"Don't go thinking that the battle will undoubtedly go ill by our gloomy faces," Jack put in quickly, "we're just..."

"Anxious about Jaden," Aragorn nodded. "This I can understand, for though the both of you know her far better than I ever will, she is still one whom I would be loath to lose. The four of you are... special... in a way that no others, from your world or ours, could ever be."

"You've never been to high school," Maylin laughed. Tears were fogging up her eyes even as she spoke and Aragorn stood, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet.

"If we should live to meet again after this battle, there might be much within my power that I should be glad to give you; but for now, I have but one thing I can give you: my blessing," he said, looking into the hearts of the two youths in the tent with him. Resting his hands on her shoulders, Aragorn gently rested his lips against Maylin's forehead. As Jack rose to his feet next to Maylin, Aragorn turned to him and gave the same gesture of friendship, protection and love. They all stood there for a minute, looking at one another, recording this moment in their minds for the future.

.O.O.O.

The wind was still blowing from the north when the company rode out the next morning to meet fate head on. Aragorn had placed the few men left to him around on the slag-heaps that rose in the barren land before the Towers of the Teeth, and the Nazgul were wheeling overhead like great vultures, yet no movement was made from the enemy. A company composed of Aragorn, Gandalf, Eomer, Prince Imrahil, the sons of Elrond, Legolas, Gimli, Pippin, Maylin and Jack along with a host of horsemen rode forward with the banner snapping above their heads. All besides Pippin and Gimli, who sat before Gandalf on Shadowfax and behind Legolas, rode on their own horses, and Fengel bore himself proudly in spite of the tense nerves surrounding him.

Jack blew out a breath and looked up at the imposing black fortress before him. Even if the number of men behind him had been multiplied by one hundred thousand and the enemy behind the gate was barely enough to man the gate, he knew that there was little hope of ever storming it. All of Aragorn's false show of pomp and pride nearly faded beneath the unwavering shadow of those gates, and it was only by stern remembrance of why they were there that kept the troop at the foot of the gates from shivering in their saddles and running while they still had a chance.

For a while absolutely nothing happened, but the Nazgul above continued to circle, and they knew they were being watched.

After a time, Aragorn raised his head in defiance and shouted to the top of the battlements, "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him, for wrongfully has he made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then forever. Come forth!"

Once again, silence descended over the sandy stretch before the gate, and it lasted so long that the company was about to depart when suddenly there came a great rolling of massive drums and the door of the Black Gate opened. Out of it came a tall and dark rider clad all in black with a heavy helm on his head.

"I am the Mouth of Sauron," he droned in deep voice that flowed far too easily through his malformed lips. He looked at those gathered before him and laughed. "Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me? Or indeed to understand me? Not thou at least!" Here he looked at Aragorn. "It needs more to make a king than a piece of elvish glass, or a rabble such as this."

For a moment he locked eyes with Aragorn, but then, after several moments had passed thus, he snapped his gaze away, as if in fear. Jack and Maylin exchanged gleefully triumphant smirks. Unfortunately, their motion did not go by unnoticed by the Mouth of Sauron. He whipped his head towards where they sat on their horses by Legolas and Gimli and actually growled.

"Do not think that my master has forgotten you, though you flit across the map like little flies," he threatened. "You are still high in your thoughts, along with the other two of your pathetic little band. But tell me, where are your beloved comrades? Ah, wait, but I already know the fate of one, she whom you call 'Leigh' I believe. Did she die on the battlefield, or does she suffer terrible agonies from her wounds even know in the throws of death?"

"Actually," Jack quipped, arching an eyebrow, "she lives, our king has healed her. Oh, I'm sorry, did you know?"

The black figure snarled and jerked his attention on to Gandalf and the rest of the party.

"I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee," he announced in his queerly rhythmic voice. Summoning a servant who hovered by the gate with a jerk of his hand wrist, the Mouth of Sauron pulled a bundle wrapped in sable cloth from the arms of the creature that scurried to do the Mouth's bidding.

First, he pulled out the short sword that Sam had born with him, then secondly a grey elven cloak with the leaf-shaped broach still attached to it. Thirdly came the mithril shirt Frodo had worn, as well as the elven dagger Galadriel had given Jaden in Lothlorien. There was a terrible moment of silence in which it seemed like the last rays of hope had fled the world, and then Pippin tried to leap forward with a grief-stricken cry, but Gandalf caught him and ordered him to be silent and the Messenger laughed aloud.

"So you have another one of these imps with you!" he cried. "What use you find in them I cannot guess; but to send them as spies into Mordor is beyond even your accustomed folly. Still, I thank him, for it is plain that this brat at least has seen these tokens before, and it would be vain for you to deny them now.

"Good, good!" he went on. "The halfling and the girl were dear to you, I see. Or else their errand was one that you did not wish to fail? It has. And now they shall endure the slow torment of years, as long and slow as our arts in the Great Tower can contrive, and never be released, unless maybe when they are changed and broken, so that they may come to you, and you may see what you have done. This shall surely be unless you accept my Lord's terms."

"Name the terms," Gandalf said wearily, all of his long years showing in his haggard face.

The Messenger then went on gleefully to outline a detailed list of demands that ultimately summed up to them handing over Middle-Earth on a silver platter with fries on the side. "These are his terms. Take them or leave them!" the Mouth of Sauron declared haughtily.

"These we will take!" Gandalf cried out suddenly, casting aside his cloak so that a brilliant light beamed out in the face of the twisted messenger before him. As the Mouth of Sauron recoiled, Gandalf lunged forward and snatched up the things still in the clutches of the foul servant of Sauron. "These we will take in memory of our friends," he cried. "But as for your terms, we reject them utterly. Get you gone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you. We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less his slaves. Be gone!"

The Mouth of Sauron's face contorted and he laughed no more. Shapeless sounds of fury rose in his throat and his mouth foamed. But then his eyes fell on the faces of the Captains that he faced, and his fear overcame his wrath, and he turned and fled back through the gate with a wild cry as his servant blew a blast on a horn, springing Sauron's trap.

The Black Gates swung open with a rumbling doom and a swarming host spilled out towards the forces of light gathered before the gates of Mordor. The company that had come to make their challenge now swung their horses around and galloped back with all speed for the dim safety of the mounds of rubble where their soldiers were positioned.

They reached their respective hills with foaming horses and little time remaining before the legions of foul beasts and monsters came crashing into them. Jack and Maylin stayed with Aragorn, the sons of Elrond, and those of the Fellowship that still remained. The only negative thing about their present company was that Aragorn has set his personal troop along with the Dunadain that had survived the Battle of the Pelennor Fields at the very head of the defense. Here would the tide strike the hardest, and the quickest. Jack swung off of his horse and pulled his sword free of its sheath at his side, striding up to stand by Legolas and Gimli as the first breakers of orcs and trolls rolled towards them. Already, hordes upon hordes had wrapped around the slag heaps and had slashed off any possible escape route for the Men and Elves (and Dwarf and hobbit) gathered there. Was this the end?

Aragorn turned and looked his young friend in the eye, his expression grim but steady.

"Is this then to be our end, Master Jack?" he asked.

"I do not know," Jack replied, looking past his friend and out to the orcs charging towards them. "I am not at all sure that they truly have Frodo and Jaden... and he did not seem to realize that there was a third. Perhaps hope still remains, but I suppose we shall just have to see. It won't come in time to stop this charge, though."

Aragorn nodded solemnly. "May we meet again, my young friend!" he cried. And then the enemy crashed into them.

In an instant, Maylin found herself severed from nearly all of her companions who had stood beside her only moments before. Three orcs were down in the same amount of seconds, and her arrows quickly began to fail her. All around were leering faces and flashing blades. Arrows zipped over head and sang by her ear from both sides. Soon, the slim shafts from her own quiver were in her hands and plunged in and out of slimy orc flesh as she fought to reach higher ground where she might be able to use her bow again. To her left, a lumbering troll passed by, but it thankfully did not see her and brought its mighty hammer down on the heads of less fortunate soldiers. A high, fierce battle scream tore from her lips as she slashed at the press of monsters all around her. If she died, she would die well.

For a moment, she broke into a bubble of space where only a few orcs knocked into each other, trying to get at the targets in the surging sea around them. Maylin wasted no time and hacked through them in a heart-beat, all the while thanking Aragorn for making her wear the mail and surcoat as stray elbows and hilts rammed into her ribs and body. The Elf swung her sword over her head and cleanly slashed the head free from a set of orcish shoulders and turned towards the last figure in the immediate area.

"For Jaden!" Maylin shrieked.

Suddenly, the orc gave a small cry and raised its arm, calling Maylin's name. The young woman froze in shock, blinking in astonishment as her sword arm fell to her side. At her feet, the kneeling orc fumbled with its helmet and tossed it aside with a final effort.

"I am Jaden," the dirty figure said tiredly.

IMPORTANT MESSAGE! READ TO THE END OF THE FANFICTION OR MISS SOMETHING MAJORLY IMPORTANT! THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! THERE ARE PROBABLY ABOUT TWO MORE!!!!!

A/N: Hi! Are you happy? Or should I be running away from the mob with pitch forks for leaving you hanging in the middle of an action sequence? Well, you can tell me! Say 'Cuckoo' in your review if you have read my author's notes! Thankies much!


	59. Of Troll Mash and Flying Pebbles

Disclaimer: I own only a cheesy replica of the One Ring, and I certainly don't own the rights to the story it came from. Sorry to bust your nit-picking bubble.

A/N: I'm BAAAACK! Vacation was nice, but I am SO glad to be home! Well, the last chapter is in the works, and here is this one for you to read. I shall shut-up now and let you get to it. See you at the end!

Of Troll Mash and Flying Pebbles

Maylin's eyes widened in shock and her jaw fell open as she saw her friend's face and dark hair become apparent despite the orc-garments she wore. While she had grown thin and gaunt, her features were still there beneath the dirt and grime. It was _Jaden!_

"_Jaden!_" Maylin cried, falling to her own knees, dropping her sword and embracing her companion. "What on _earth_ are you doing here?!"

"Long story... not now... you have things to do," Jaden panted.

Maylin nodded in a dazed fashion and turned just in time to see a massive troll lumbering towards them. Her breath caught in her throat and her wrists trembled. There was _no_ way her little arrows would be able to puncture the thick hide of the monster, let alone the heavy armor it had donned. The face of the troll contorted into something like a gleeful expression at the sight of the nearly defenseless elf crouched on the ground before it. It's plan of death and destruction was written clearly in its flat, battle-crazed eyes.

"Jack!" Maylin screamed. But her voice couldn't be heard more than a few yards in the wild shouts and shrieks of the battle, and there was no one close enough to hear her, let alone come to her rescue. "Legolas! Aragorn! _Gandalf!_" No name did any good, and the troll was almost upon them. Behind her, Jaden moaned.

"Please don't tell me that I've lived this long to become troll-mash!" she cried, trying to scramble to her feet with her clumsy orc-scimitar clenched in her sweaty hands.

"Dead, dead, dead, oh so dead," Maylin muttered under breath.

At last the troll stopped in front of them, raising his massive war hammer with an evil glint in its goopy eyes. Maylin lunged forward with a desperate cry only to be swept aside by a thickly calloused hand nearly as large as her torso. Her back smacked into the ground and she felt the wind blow out of her lungs in one breathless gust. The arrow she had been wielding was lying several yards away, but she groped for it anyway, determined to live to see her wedding day. Almost carelessly, the hulking beast forced her back down with its heavy metal boot and pushed out any remaining air from her lungs. As Maylin scratched almost blindly at the great foot planted on her chest, she saw Jaden finally stagger to her feet and lung with a wild shriek to stab at the troll's nearest leg.

The beast roared and turned his over-sized head to see a thing that was _supposed_ to be fighting on his side slashing at his poor leg. It didn't matter much to the brainless monster, and it slapped the blade away from the pesky menace before snatching it up and lifting its hammer to end the annoying little problem once and for all. Maylin shrieked and clawed at the imprisoning foot, screaming one last cry for help as the huge hammer lifted up above the troll's head.

Out of nowhere, an unexpected savior appeared, literally leaping up to the troll's shoulder and slashing across its face with a thin, curving blade. The monster roared in pain and dropped both Jaden and its hammer as it stumbled backwards off of Maylin. As Maylin and Jaden held each other fiercely, thoroughly relieved but also trembling from the experience, the attacker pressed on against the troll, hamstringing its legs and hacking its face and neck until he was sure the thing was dead. Once this was done, the timely rescuer turned around to check on the two girls he had saved.

"Lord Elladan!" Maylin exclaimed in relief. "I cannot thank you enough, my lord."

"You may thank me by confirming my suspicion," the elf lord replied, focusing his timeless eyes on Jaden. "Is this, then, the lady Jaden of which you and your friends have so often spoken?"

"Yes, this is Jaden," Maylin confirmed, nodding quickly.

"May I ask how it is that have come in here in such... attire?" Elladan inquired.

"You may," Jaden wheezed, "but it will have to wait until later. I believe I am interrupting a battle."

The elf grinned and nodded. "Indeed, the timing is not the best. But allow me to stay by your side until this battle has finished and I may leave the both of you in safety. My brother would be deeply angered if I left you in such a place by yourselves."

Jaden laughed and nodded. "Please, be our guest. I can't speak for Maylin here, but I know I at least cannot wield a sword well enough to defend myself at the moment."

"Then it shall be my honor to serve as your guard for the time being," Elladan announced with a courtly bow. A split second after saying this he spun and drove his blade through an orc that had crept up behind him.

.O.O.O.

The slag heaps were stained red with the blood of the fallen warriors from both sides who lied motionless on the ground around Jack's feet. Every time he managed to kill one orc, another sauntered up to take its place... or sometimes three or four would come to replace a fallen monster. Misshapen features blurred in Jack's vision as he gutted one orc and plunged his Rohirric blade through the face of another. This was where he would die, he felt sure of it; either that or he would go on hacking and slashing for all of eternity.

There was black blood all over his hands and the mound he was standing on was slick with red and sable pools mixed with bowls and body parts that had been lost in the fighting. Jack grimaced during one of the extremely brief reprieves in the action and wiped a wet hand across his brow, trying vainly to keep the stinging sweat from pouring into his eyes. He knew he must be a sight, dripping with blood and swinging like a lumberjack, but he knew that it hardly mattered what he looked like. All that mattered at the moment was staying alive long enough to see the end of the battle.

Panting and leaning on his sword, Jack chanced to look to his left and saw Aragorn locked in a terrible struggle with five orcs that had him surrounded and cut off from outside assistance. The boy leapt up and charged into the fray with a battle roar, decapitating one of the largest assailants before it even realized the danger. Two more had their sides slit open before the others registered that their kingly target was not the only warrior they had to worry about. Aragorn leapt to take advantage of their temporary distraction and ran through one more of the orcs. In one movement, the two men swept their swords up and sliced the remaining attacker in half. The king panted and nodded his thanks to Jack, clapping him on the shoulder before swinging around to block a heavy swing from a fresh opponent. Jack paused for a second to catch his breath and glanced around for any stray orcs that would be easier to take down. As his eyes and thoughts strayed, a second orc crept up behind Aragorn and raised a massive wooden club into the air, intent on smashing in the king's skull. Jack looked up just as the blow began to fall, and he threw himself forward with a cry of warning to his comrade.

Acting on his instinct, Jack raised his arm to protect his head as he dove between Aragorn and the attacking orc to keep the blow away from his head. As the club smashed into his arm, Jack felt the bone in his forearm snap with a sickening crack and he landed on the ground with a pained cry, cradling the broken limb. Aragorn swiftly dispatched his current assailant and then wasted no time in driving his ancient sword through the heart of the orc that had smashed his friend's arm.

The king dropped to one knee and looked at Jack with worried eyes. "Are you alright?" he demanded.

"My arm," Jack whimpered, "I think it's broken."

Aragorn looked up and suddenly there was an exuberant cry among the men around them.

"The eagles! The eagles are coming!"

.O.O.O.

Maylin and Jaden huddled together as the Nazgul suddenly wheeled away into the blackness of Mordor and eagles swooped down on a gathering wind. All around them, the men rallied and shouted, their courage and hearts restored. They had come to it at last, the end of the War of the Ring, and they had lived to see the fall of Mordor. The two trembled and clutched each other as the two massive Towers of the Teeth came crashing down in an earthquake of dust and tumbling stone fragments that rolled and shattered. A towering column of darkness and fire sprang from the peak of Mount Doom, and boiled the blackened sky above it. Then came a rolling drumming rumble, a terrible roar, and it faded away, leaving an absolute quiet.

As Gandalf declared their victory in clear voice for all of the world to hear, a dark shadow crowned with light loomed out of the shattered ashes of the Black Land. It towered high above them with harmless malice, for, even as it stretched out a dark hand towards them, a wind came and blew it away into the air.

All around the girls, orcs and trolls were running away in a mad terror, dropping weapons and scattering like marbles dropped on the kitchen floor; harmless. Men cheered and the two girls rose, still holding tightly to each other as the greatest of the eagles began to spiral downwards. From where they stood, they saw Gandalf come to stand on the highest peak of the slag hills and meet with the great eagle. Maylin tugged at her friend.

"We should tell him we've found you," she said. "No point in wasting an eagle's trip, you know."

Jaden nodded and they walked hand in hand like small children with bowed heads up to the hill where Gandalf was preparing to ride away with the Lord of the Eagles to the rescue of the Ringbearer.

"Gandalf!" Jaden cried, tears flowing out of her eyes and her voice trembling with joy at the sight of the often crotchety old wizard.

"Not now, Jaden," he said in his most annoyed voice, "there is an urgent matter..." The light finally dawned in his eyes and he turned around slowly, unable to believe his ears. "_Jaden?_"

"It's me, it's really me!" Jaden cried happily. "Are you surprised to see me?"

"Surprised! Surprised? I would have thought it more likely to see all of the five wizards gathered here than to see you on this battlefield!" he exclaimed. "How came you here? Ah, wait. An urgent matter still demands my attention, for no hobbit, man or elf could have _tossed_ the One Ring from this place to Orodruin. Two more must still be recovered, and I must leave at this moment." He swung onto the great eagle's back and the massive bird fanned its wings as it prepared to leap into the air. "We shall speak more of this soon, Jaden, savior of Middle-Earth!" And then Jaden and Maylin were left standing alone on the hill top as Gandalf flew away on the back of the mighty bird.

As Maylin and Jaden carefully maneuvered down the side of the towering slag-hill, the second girl began to slow, and it was as if the weariness of many days had gathered on her shoulders. The initial shock and awe Maylin had first felt at the fall of Sauron and the sight of the swooping eagles had worn off and her spirits were soaring in the clear blue sky. Reaching the bottom of the heap, the young elf whirled happily to face her long-lost friend with a jubilant smile.

"We have to find Jack!" she prattled. "He's around here somewhere, and if I don't take you to see him straight away he'll shout the hide off of me later. Oh! And Aragorn! How on earth did I forget him...? Jaden, are you alright?"

Swaying unsteadily on her feet, Jaden struggled against her rebellious body and kept her eyes partially open. "I... I think I need to sit down," she murmured faintly. Suddenly, she toppled backwards, only to find herself caught up in Maylin's strong elven arms. "Sorry," Jaden managed to force out.

"Nothing to apologize for," Maylin said stoutly. "You just rest now, and I'll make sure that everything is taken care of."

Jaden nodded limply once and then her body slipped into a totally relaxed state as her dreams flew her spirit away to the peaceful lands of sleep.

.O.O.O.

Maylin now found herself in something of a spot with her utterly exhausted friend resting in her arms and no way to carry or move her. True, Maylin was strong enough to catch her and hold her upper body, but there was simply no way that she could carry Jaden more than three yards in any direction. At the moment she didn't have the foggiest idea where Aragorn was, and Jack probably couldn't carry Jaden anyways even if she could find him. Maylin was loth to leave the comrade who had been through so much with and without her all alone on an alien battlefield in orc gear which a well meaning soldier might take as belonging to a real orc. With a resounding grunt, the eleth plopped down beside her fallen buddy and waited impatiently for assistance. Legolas and Gimli were her best bets at the moment... well Legolas was anyway. Gimli would most likely be digging poor Pip out from under a troll at that moment and would thus be occupied. Maylin growled and wished that Gandalf was there. Big, burly Boromir would most likely be dispatching any remaining orcs at that moment, so, although he physically could fill the position, he was unavailable as a human taxi.

Picking up assorted pebbles lying in the immediate vicinity, Maylin began using the many crows gathered on the battlefield as target practice. Grumbling, she realized that Leigh was beginning to rub off on her.

"A pox on all blonde warrior women with the personalities of lion cubs," she muttered darkly. "May they be plagued with children akin unto themselves."

Maylin remained sitting in her soon pebble-less circle for nearly an hour. By that time, the sun was sinking and the shadows had begun to warp and stretch. A few soldiers had passed by, but they didn't even pause upon seeing the mysterious elven prophetess and hurried along on their various ways before Maylin could do so much as squeak. Once or twice, she was sorely tempted to hurl a pebble at them as they passed by. At length, the bored young woman took to juggling her remaining pebbles in random patterns. To her great delight she found that her heightened senses enhanced her juggling talents to a degree that would have normally taken her years of practice. She couldn't wait until she was with both Leigh and Jaden again.

Finally, she saw Legolas's slim silhouette approaching her from the top of the hill. Maylin stood up and smartly brushed off her sullied armor as the other elf spotted her and broke into a jog. A few pebbles skittered by inches from Jaden's closed eyes as Legolas ground to a halt in front of his youthful beloved.

"You certainly took your time," Maylin snapped before he could utter a word. "I've been stuck here for half of eternity, and Jaden here is..."

"Jaden?" Legolas exclaimed. "She is here?"

"Yes, she's lying about one yard from your left foot," she replied.

Without missing a beat, the prince knelt down in the bloody dust and scooped up the unconscious teenager. Together with Maylin, Legolas walked quickly and smoothly to a hill a short distance away where Aragorn stood surrounded by warriors and lords. The soft felt boots that shielded the elves' feet whispered in silent grace as the two of them mounted the filthy heap of slag, bringing their young hero friend up to the king. As Aragorn caught sight of the burden resting in the arms of his elven comrade, a confused wave of tangled emotions crashed over his countenance. Confusion, wonder and then fear swirled over his face when he beheld the strange short hair and gentle features of his little foreign friend. Forgetting his other duties and obligations, the future king rushed down to meet those coming up the hillside with a few others such as the sons of Elrond hurrying down after him. Aragorn quickly and gently brushed the overgrown bangs out of Jaden's face, inspecting for damage. After a few moments he seemed satisfied that the girl was not at least in any immediate danger, and let Maylin tell him of the sudden meeting on the battlefield and the fatigue that had finally dragged their mutual friend into her current coma-like state.

"She needs rest," Aragorn announced. "We have no idea what kind of horrors she has lived through, and I doubt she let herself sleep well while she was in the company of the orcs, for however long that might have been. For now we will make her as comfortable as possible until she awakens. Then we will learn the answers to these riddles. Until that time, she shall be given the honor due to her: the honor due to one who has risked their all to guard the Ringbearer and his quest."

Four of Aragorn's personal guards rushed off and returned bearing a simply stretcher over which was draped a sable cloak belonging to one of the soldiers. In one smooth motion, Aragorn swept the covering off of the litter and draped his own over the slumbering prophetess. No less honor would do. As the stretcher was lifted up to be born away, Maylin rose to go with it, but Aragorn stopped her.

"There will be time for that later," he told her, "but there is another who needs you more at this time." Maylin cocked her head and frowned. "Jack was wounded in the battle, but it is not a mortal wound. He will recover in time, there is no cause for alarm." With that, he wheeled and proceeded back towards the crown of the hill where the Dunadain stood waiting for their lord and king. Maylin and the other elves followed by his side, listening intently as he dealt out orders and arranged for the moving of his army. As the noble leader issued commands, Maylin's patience began to wear thin. Her feet shifted restlessly beneath her, but she held on and kept herself from demanding to be told Jack's whereabouts, as Leigh would have done. At long last, Aragorn noticed the distress on the face of his oldest charge and paused to take the time to point out the tent where Jack was resting.

Maylin uttered a quick thank you and took off, skidding and sliding when the loose stones and dirt threatened to send her careening down on her backside. Jaden might just need rest, but she wanted to be absolutely certain that no permanent damage had been inflicted on Jack. The Four had come too far together to lose a member, or a member of a member. Leigh had given them a mighty fright, and then Jaden had just shocked them. Now it was Jack's turn to play the invalid, and he picked a fine time to try it, too. It fell to Maylin to inform him of Jaden's sudden appearance, and she contemplated how best to break it to him as she zipped along towards the tent. Wouldn't he be surprised.

NOT THE END! ONE CHAPTER LEFT, YOU MUST READ IT!!!!!!

A/N: Did you like? I hope you did! PLEASE REIVEW! I am tired, and have little to say. Thankies to my beta, and please say 'turtles' in your review. Thankies much!


	60. Prophecy

Disclaimer: I'm a little teapot, short and stout. Little teapots don't own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Is unsure whether to cheer or cry Welcome back, everyone, to the final chapter of Prophecy! Much thanks to my two different betas who I had at different times, and thanks to all of the wonderful people who have reviewed this story! You are my buddies sniff I have nothing else to say, but be sure to read down to the end!

Prophecy

The first thing that Jaden became aware of was pure yellow sunlight playing down from above her through a mottled leafy screen. Very slowly, she blinked a thin roof of fabric materialized above her, gently billowing and rolling in a quiet breeze. For another few minutes she remained in that position, just watching the blessed sun and hearing the flapping of the wind. With great care, almost as if she feared that a sudden movement would shatter her, Jaden rolled her head to the side and found that she was in a white tent, lying in a low bed richly covered with light sheets as pure and soft as the unadulterate snow. Lush green grass carpeted the enclosure and released sweet scents of spring into the fresh air. But all of this simply beauty paled in Jaden's eyes as she beheld, sitting in a carved wooden chair, her dear friend, Leigh.

"Leigh!" she exclaimed with a great cry. "How, where?"

"It's good to see you, too," the older teen said with a half smirk. "Enjoy your nap?"

Jaden shook her head in amazement. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A few weeks," Leigh shrugged. "What, did you think I could come all the way from Minas Tirith in half an hour?"

Then Jaden noticed how gingerly Leigh held herself up against the back of the chair and saw the bandage peaking out beneath the edge of her tunic's neckline. She sucked in her breath and remembered the Mirror and the horrors that had played out before her. Maylin she had already met, and Leigh was now before her, but Jaden still felt a sharp prick of fear as the dark memories crashed into her.

"You're hurt," she barked quietly.

Leigh looked down and fingered the exposed dressing. "Yeah, but I'll live."

"What," Jaden took a shuddering breath and steeled herself. "What happened?"

"Oh, just the usual: I did something stupid," Leigh replied wryly. "I took off into the middle of a battle by myself and got stuck with three arrows and a bad dose of Black Breath."

Just then, Jack and Maylin pushed through the entrance of the tent and strode in. Maylin was dressed in simple, elegant clothing consisting of a knee-length tunic and soft breeches, like Leigh, while Jack wore a much shorter shirt over his trousers that allowed a greater range of motion. Ensconcing his arm was a plain white sling that hid the cast-like length of linen wrapped around him from shoulder to wrist.

"And what happened to you?" Jaden exclaimed.

"He got himself a broken arm while valiantly defending the king," Maylin winked. "Personally, I think he was just jealous of Leigh getting all of the medical attention."

"Whatever," Leigh and Jack snorted in synchronized disdain.

Suddenly, Jaden laughed. For the first time in what felt like years, she laughed. There they were; they had all survived, and now they were once again as they should be: altogether, the Four reunited. Undoubtedly, they had all experienced their own share of horrors, but now they were past, and the sun was shining down on a new day full of bright new futures and possibilities.

Jaden surveyed her comrades with a new perspective. Each and every one of them had changed during the time they had spent in Middle-Earth, both physically and mentally. In the months they had spent apart, Jack's hair had grown longer and wilder looking, and in his eyes dwelled the soul of a deeply intellectual young man who would continue to learn, love, and live to the end of his days. Maylin had grown into all of the grace and elegance befitting an Elf, but she still held the irrepressible spark of youth in her, making her truly unique. Leigh had also grown. Her eyes were fierier, her face more resolute, and while Jaden was quite sure that she still possessed her typical impulsiveness, she had the makings of a fine woman written on her features. What was more, all of them bore the mature expressions of those that have seen war and faced death in its many guises. Now here they were, together, just as they had been before their strange tale had begun... or perhaps not.

O.O.O.

For the next week or two, the reunited Four spent their time primarily either hidden away in one of their tents, conversing on all that had occurred, or strolling under the waving trees, rejoicing in one another's company. One of two members of the Fellowship were often seen with the gleeful young people, but they generally retained a respectful distance and let the younger adventurers be, knowing how it felt to be separated from loved ones for so long. During their long conversations much was revealed and shared pertaining to the many paths that the Four had trod on their own. It was then that Jaden was filled in on the details concerning Leigh and Maylin's respective love stories and Jack's new found talents. Jaden also revealed the deciding factors that had led to her choice. She described the scenes shown to her in Galadriel's Mirror in detail, and once again thanked the Valar that at least most of them had never come to be.

"It seems to me," Jack wondered, "that the futures you saw in the Mirror were dependant not on your own choices, but rather ours.

"Legolas was the one to stop me at Helm's Deep," Maylin agreed. "And Leigh's predicament was her own stupid fault."

"I resemble that remark," Leigh stated, raising her hand.

"Strange how things like this work out," Jack mused. "We've had an interesting run of things, that's for sure."

"Think you'll make a ballad of it, Jack?" Jaden asked with a grin.

Jack shrugged and let his eyes drift up to the ceiling. "Maybe."

Time slipped by under the spotted shade of the breeze-blown trees, and the world was bright and good again. More people trickled into the growing camp, and the nights became alive with song and firelight. Merry came shortly after Leigh arrived, and he was soon running around with Pippin, causing trouble, mayhem, and chaos in general. From time to time, one of both of them would come flitting around the Four, gleefully basking in their mutual joy before dashing back to work for their respective masters.

At long last, the day arrived when Frodo and Sam were due to wake. The soldiers were gathered on the Field of Cormallen, and servants rushed about preparing a feast in honor of the waking of the Ringbearers. It was at this time that Gandalf presented Jaden with a fact that she had not really dwelled on before: she was to be counted as one of the bearers of the One Ring and a vital part of the hobbits' quest to Mount Doom. For, although it had only been for a very brief time, she had born the Ring when Frodo dropped it in Shelob's Layer, and she had willingly sacrificed herself so that they could escape the orcs and continue on their way. Personally, Jaden thought it was all rubbish and fought tooth and nail against being praised along with Frodo and Sam. But Gandalf and Aragorn were not to be dissuaded, and on the morning that Frodo and Sam were roused from their healing sleep, Jaden was outfitted in a long, unadorned white dress with long sleeves that fit her arms to the wrists and a simple, clean-cut neckline. Jaden, however, in an act of defiance, made sure that her newly cut hair was teased up into its usual messy style, much to the delight of Merry and Pippin, who had always claimed that it made her look a bit like a hobbit.

Before he left to attend to the hobbits, Gandalf instructed Jaden in her part of the celebrations, along with the other members of the Four. Maylin, Leigh and Jack were to stand behind the three thrones of Aragorn, Eomer, and Imrahil, the prince of Dol Amroth, while Jaden waited beside them until Frodo and Sam were brought forward. And so it was that three young people from the middle of modern America found themselves standing in a glittering host in a far away land, honored beside kings and heros.

Jaden watched with anticipation as Gandalf, clad all in white, appeared with the two beloved hobbits in tow. Naturally, Aragorn was the first friend that they recognized, seeing as how he was in front, and they tore across the open plain with bright joy at the sight of him to the jubilant cries of the many fighting men standing on either side. Then, to the halflings' great surprise, the soon to be crowned king knelt before them and then guided them by the hand to his own throne, where he shouted in a great voice, "Praise them with great praise!"

Echoing cries resounded in Leigh's ears as she stood slightly to the right of Aragorn's throne. Her eyes misted over as she gazed at her two small friends. Beside her, Aragorn stepped around and took Jaden's hand, leading her, blushing, into the light.

"Jaden?" Sam cried in delight. "How has this come to be, then? We thought you lost to us forever, and here we find you well and safe with Gandalf and Strider!"

The teenager barely paid any attention to Sam's happy blubbering, but dropped to her knees in order to enfold them both in an unbearable tight hug. Frodo and Sam instantly returned the motion and, from the viewpoint of those watching, the three of them became a single quaking, joyful, lamenting work of art. After several more minutes of the tearful embrace, the three drew apart and Jaden folded her legs up underneath her at the foot of the throne, where she might still speak with and hold the hands of her two dear companions. At a sign from Gandalf, the other three of the Four came forward and sat down in a somewhat protective circle around Jaden and the other Ringbearers.

Then a minstrel stepped forward and began the new lay of the Ringbearer and his desperate quest into the shadowed lands of Mordor. As the man sang and played, Maylin happened to glance over and see Jack discreetly plucking the strings of an invisible harp, his lips flowing over silent words and his hair floating over his closed eyes. His time with the Elves had thoroughly changed him, and now he hovered in a world all his own, shared perhaps only by Aragorn and Arwen, who also drifted between the realms of men and elves. Maybe Maylin herself knew what he was going through, or would soon anyways. As of yet she had spent most of her time around humans, and had thus retained her former human attributes, but who knew what Mirkwood might bring?

Now that the War of the Ring was behind them, they all must look to the future. For her, there was Legolas, and where ever he went, she would follow. Leigh's path had yet to be finalized, but her relationship with Boromir was clearly blossoming. Jack and Jaden both had the vaguest futures. There was no doubt that they would be provided for where ever they went in return for their valiant deeds, but their actual courses were still hazy at best. There was much left to discover concerning those two.

When the minstrel had finished the lengthy saga, it was well past noon, and the trees' shadows were growing long and gaunt. The Four rose stiffly, and restrained from stretching just long enough to reach the nearest of their tents. The previous sleeping arrangements had been modified to make room for the new companions, leaving Jack alone in his tent with Legolas and Gimli, and giving Maylin a larger tent and two roommates.

Then began a happy time for the fully reunited Fellowship. That night there was a feast, and that was followed by a private campfire surrounded by members of the oddly mixed company. The darkness had passed, and suddenly they all found themselves reeling and trying to find out how they fir into everything again. Especially the hobbits and the Four suffered this sensation. They had lost to varying degrees the lives they had led before, or, in the case of the Four, their former lives were gone forever. But such thoughts were just wisps of grey clouds on their bright horizons at that time, and the glee in the air overpowered all.

The weary soldiers rested there until May neared, and then they boarded ships bobbing on the river and sailed to Osgiliath where they rested for one night. The following morn they moved camp to the field before Minas Tirith, where they waited for the dawn, when their new king would come into his rein.

.O.O.O.

Dawn advanced over the stirring camp with burnished fingers of glittering light. As Jack stuck his head out of the entrance to his tent, he saw men at arms rushing hither and thither, glinting in the warm dawn, and dressed for a grand ceremony. He himself was rising rather late, having spent the night hours conversing with his old friends one last time before one of their number was crowned king of the greatest realm in Middle-Earth. Naturally, Legolas and Gimli were long gone, but thankfully they were not around to taunt him for sleeping so late. The other members of the Four, however, had also risen later than anticipated, and from where he stood across the way, Jack could hear the girls squawking and muttering as they rushed to make themselves presentable.

Suddenly, a bright head thrust out between the flaps of the tent, and Jack grinned as he made eye-contact with Leigh.

"Morning," he said cheerily.

"Easy for you to say," Leigh snorted. "You don't have to put on these layered monstrosities and survive Maylin's pokings and proddings. I don't think I have half the hair I did before she started."

"Oh, please," Maylin's voice drawled from within the tent. "The dresses are just lovely, and you're making a fuss out of nothing."

"They are not dresses," Leigh glowered. "They're frocks. Oversized, garish FROCKS!"

Maylin's head joined Leigh's and she offered Jack a bright smile. "Good morning, Jack!"

"Morning, Maylin," the boy grinned. "How goes the war?"

"Slowly," the elf replied, looking down with a frown at Leigh's rumpled hair. "Leigh's hair is as stubborn as she is. At least Jaden's hair mostly takes care of itself with a little work." Without waiting for a reply, Maylin snatched Leigh's head and vanished back behind the securely tied flap. Jack stifled a laugh as he heard Leigh begin shouting and Maylin's strident bellows erupt once again.

For about ten minutes, these exclamations continued to pour out of the canvas structure. Then, at long last, messengers came from Gandalf, asking the ladies to effectually step on it.

Jack had been given a tunic of silver and leggings of dark grey to wear before the assembled people of Gondor at Aragorn's coronation. Around his waist was clasped a slim silver belt akin to those of the Elves, and from it hung his sword. His harp was housed in a silken case which was hung over his back, for no minstrel worth their salt would ever leave their beloved weapon behind on such an occasion.

Now the ladies stepped out of their pavilion, walking very carefully lest they walk on the sweeping hems of their gowns. Jaden came first, dressed in green and pearly white with sleeves that reached her hips when her arms were folded. After her came Leigh glowering at the world and shuffling along in her flowing frock of blues as varied as the waters of the oceans. Maylin came last, shooing out her friends and bearing herself with elven dignity. Gold and white was her dress, catching the brilliant sunlight and reflecting it two-fold. None of them bore any jewelry of any kind, but their dresses more than made up for the lack of jewels. Leigh had been right: they were frocks, but they were pretty frocks.

Legolas came sweeping over the fresh spring grass and led the Four to the others with Maylin on his arm. As they walked, Jack looked over at Leigh, who walked beside him. It was usually unlike her to pout about wearing such finery, but today she was behaving like a ticked off storm cloud. Suddenly, the reason for her sullenness dawned on him. Boromir had gone into the city ahead of them the night before to make all ready on that side of the wall for the ceremony, and to play his part, and Leigh was without an escort, for she would have none but Boromir. Jaden was also without an escort, but that was a different matter entirely. Leigh actually wanted one, and Boromir wasn't there to stand with her. In her eyes, she had gotten all dressed up and had to smile and wave when all she wanted to do was sit and wait for Boromir. Jack shook his head. Love really did drive people mad.

"You'll see him in a couple of minutes," he reminded her in a whisper. "Try not to melt the walls until then."

Despite her best efforts, Leigh smirked through her glare and shook her head ruefully. "I look like the female equivalent of a fop."

"Oh, stop it," Jack admonished. "You look fine, and I'm sure Boromir will think so, too."

That got her to perk up.

Together, the company proceeded to the head of the camp, where they found Aragorn and his people arrayed much as they were. Before them the White City rose up out of the vibrant plain and ascended seemingly to the heavens high above them. A host similarly attired stood across from the king's company, and standing before the opposite company were Boromir, Faramir, Eowyn, and others who had remained in the city. As Aragorn approached, Boromir stepped forward and knelt before his lord king.

"The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office," he said formally. And stretching out his hands, he offered up the white rod which Denethor had born, and which served as the scepter of the Stewards. Aragorn received the rod, but then returned it, saying, "That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs' as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!"

Then Boromir rose and, addressing the crowd gathered before the gates, cried, "Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! One has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?"

From the assembled host, a cry of 'yea' rose in one voice.

Then Boromir presented the great crown to Aragorn, and he lifted it up, saying, "Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!"

However, Aragorn did not place the crown on his own head, but handed it back to Boromir.

"By the labor and valor of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer Frodo bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory."

And thus it was. Frodo stepped forward, watching the proceedings in obvious awe, and he then presented the crown to Gandalf, who placed it upon Elessar's head, proclaiming, "Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!"

When Aragorn rose, silence fell on all gathered to witness his crowning, for it seemed that king of old had arisen and now stood before them in all of his glory. It was Boromir who first raised the cry 'Behold the King!' and the celebration broke out amid the peoples.

The Four followed in amazement as they followed the new king through the gates of Minas Tirith and witnessed the beginning of a new age.

.O.O.O.

A few days later, the Rohirrim departed with the Sons of Elrond to prepare for the returning of Theoden's body, and to cure the wounds left in their own land. The members of the Fellowship, minus Aragorn, of course and Boromir, lived in a large house in the upper circle. It was exceedingly common to see two or more of them going in or out of the house, talking and laughing, or to spot one walking alone, lost in thought or absorbed by the sights. The girls shared one large room, although there were rooms enough for each to sleep alone. After all that they had been through, none of them reveled in the thought of a dark night spent alone in a somewhat strange place, and this feeling was even worse on Jaden's part, for she suffered a fear of the impenetrable dark for the rest of her life. Jack stayed with Merry and Pippin in a room very near the girls' so that he could reach them quickly and visit them often. Really, he spent more time with them in their room than in his own.

Conversation had changed between the four of them. Distant memories of the world they had lost were only rarely exchanged, and their thoughts turned instead to their futures in their bright new home. Maylin and Legolas's impending marriage was a favored topic, and Maylin found herself facing the unexpected problem of choosing a maid of honor. But this event was still some months at the least in the future, for Legolas had yet to return to Mirkwood and declare his intentions to his royal parents. Another issue of love that was commonly discussed was the blossoming relationship between Leigh and Boromir. Jack was learning more of the harp daily from Legolas, who knew a little about harp music, and was already the envy of every other bard and minstrel in the city. Jaden said little about her own future, because at that time she knew as much as next as the next teenager did what was in store for her.

To the weary eyes of the Four, the brilliant city of Minas Tirith with its dazzling white walls and streets was like a shot of caffeine for a student the night before finals. Leigh was especially impressed by the sweeping change that had washed over the city. When she had been there before, the roads had been silent except for the clatter of soldier's feet; now children and women dressed in bright dresses roamed among a sudden crop of vendors that had appeared out of thin air. Pots overflowing with vibrant flowers spilled off of porches and sat on private walls. The lavish gardens of the White City were also coming back to life. None of the Four who had previously been to Minas Tirith had possessed the time to visit the manicured landscapes on their earlier trips, but now their wanderings led them behind ancient and abandoned mansions with sprawling gardens reaching out around them. For Legolas, these held a special promise, and he quickly made up his mind once and for all to seek support from his family and people to nurture the weak gardens, trees and forests both around and in Minas Tirith back to health. Ithilien had already claimed his attention, and he planned on returning someday in the near future with Maylin as his wife, and to settle down under the murmuring trees that had weathered the storm of Mordor.

Not all of their time was spent in such innocent pursuits, however. If you are or know any teenager or college student, then you know that they contain an insatiable hunger until well into their twenties. These young people had been surviving on hard journey bread and tough, dried meat. Needless to say, the idea of nearby kitchens was simply too much of a temptation to resist between meals. The kitchen staff soon learned after the first few bouts with said youths that they were not to be trusted, and tasty food should be kept near at hand and away from doors and windows. Naturally, the hobbits thoroughly enjoyed this new game, and they had perfected the art of pillaging some years earlier. Together the two groups made a formidable team.

Ioreth, the elderly woman from the Houses of Healing for whom Leigh had caused so much woe, also reappeared in their lives. Now that the Houses were emptying out again, she had far more free time on her hands, and she spent much of it in the royal kitchens, trying to be a chef and making a general nuisance of herself. On this issue, the cooks and the foragers were agreed: Ioreth meant trouble. It didn't help matters much that she was the city's most prestigious busy-body, either. The Four had hardly seen the last of the bossy old matron when she was finally booted out of the kitchens.

One day, as the sun broke over the foggy horizon, the Four were summoned by Pippin to come before the King. In all the time they had been in Minas Tirith, the members of the Fellowship (not counting Gandalf) had seen very little of their newly crowned friend. None of them blamed him; he did have an awful lot on his plate, anyway. But there it was, a formal summons to come to the throne room where Denethor had once sat on his sable seat, and it was dictated with all of the authority of a true king. For the first time in a good many weeks, the Four were nervous. Had becoming King changed Aragorn so much that he would never be able to smile with the ease and friendliness he used to? Would he treat them differently, with the regal respect of a monarch, or with the warm embrace of a friend?

Nervously and apprehensively, the young heroes donned some of their finer clothing and made themselves presentable for the audience. Jaden stood looking into the large mirror their room had been furnished with and absently toyed with her hair. By now the highlights had long since grown out, and the style had changed slightly from the way it had been when she first arrived. Nonetheless, it was still unique, still displayed her individuality. Would Aragorn still have his individuality?

"Jay," Leigh said, sticking her head in around the doorframe, "you about ready?"

"Yeah," Jaden nodded. Heaving a sigh, she turned and headed towards the door. Then a thought dawned on her. "Have you seen Gandalf at all today?"

"No," Leigh replied, shaking her head. "The last time I saw him was a few nights ago. He's been nearly as busy as Aragorn, lending a helping hand and all that. Jack and I wanted to show him the garden behind that house on the third level that we found, but there wasn't a trace of him to be found. Why?"

"Just wondering," Jaden said. "He's been absent a lot lately."

Leigh nodded in agreement and cast a look back over her shoulder at Gimli's voice echoing down the hallway after her. "It seems we are being paged," she commented.

Laughing, Jaden tossed on her shoes and trotted with her friend down to the door. It was a beautiful day outside, and Pippin whistled merrily as he led the Four, and the other members of the Fellowship, towards the great house set high above the rest in the highest tier of the city. He at least was perfectly used to Minas Tirith by this time, and he strolled among the bustling populace with ease and assurance. The Four still felt slightly awkward whenever they appeared in public and were recognized. It was nearly impossible to step foot outside the door without some passerby noticing them and giving a respectful nod or whispering excitedly to their companions. Jaden's hair was a dead giveaway, but she refused to part with the style, and simply put up with the stares. In Leigh's case it was more a matter of color, seeing as how most of the women of Gondor had dark brown or black hair. Maylin was an Elf, enough said. Of them all, Jack had it the easiest, but he still managed to get spotted from time to time, due to the strange way the Four held themselves in comparison with the other people, and their manner of speech. These things might dim in time, for they would be stuck with them for quite a while yet.

At length they came to the wide doors of the King's audience chamber, and their short guide led them in with the pomp and strut of a true esquire. The Four looked around them and were surprised to see that a good many of the higher ranking officials and families of Gondor that were staying in the city were standing along the colonnaded sides of the long room. All were dressed in court finery, and the Four were deeply grateful that they had tidied themselves up a bit before coming and donned finer apparel.

They approached the dais with great solemnity and anxiousness, wondering what occasion could have called out so many of the nobility to on such a fine and somewhat early morning. When they stood before the stairs ascending to the royal throne, all those that had been called for bowed and remained kneeling until they were given leave to rise. Aragorn sat before them on the throne of his ancestors, and it dawned on the Four that this was the first time that they had seen him seated upon it. This sensation didn't last long, however, for he swiftly rose and, to their mutual shock, paid them honors in kind, inclining his head to them and placing his hand on his brow. The Four smirked at this, albeit discreetly. During his time in office, Aragorn had learned a few tricks. He had not acknowledged them just then in the typical Gondorian fashion of equal honor, as this would have raised a few of the stiffer eyebrows in the room. Instead, he had greeted them in the Elven style, welcoming them as revered equals, or better. A wave of relief swept over the friends gathered at the foot of the dais. Only their friend Aragorn could be so neatly tricky.

"I have assembled thee, my people, this day to bear witness to my decree," the King announced. "Before you stand the Four, strangers in all lands and defenders of all."

'Well that's one way of putting it,' Leigh thought.

"This day I make a declaration that shall henceforth be law," Aragorn continued. "These four, Lady Jaden, Lord Jack, Lady Leigh, and Lady Maylin, I now declare to be wards of the realm, and they shall be as my own kin. Any offense committed against one of these shall be regarded as a harm against one of the Royal Family. I take them now under my protection, and there they shall remain until the ending of the world." Then Aragorn lowered his eyes from the crowd and gazed straight at the open-mouthed Four. "For they have done, and not done, much, and have risked their own lives for a world alien and strange to them. It is not their honor, but mine to bring them into my family."

For several long moments a mouse's heartbeat could have been heard in that cavernous room. Then, suddenly, Gandalf, who had been standing to the right of Aragorn's throne throughout the proceedings, loosed the cry, "Long live the Four! May they be honored a hundred-fold for their valiant heroism!"

The cry roared around the room, and Jack turned to blink at his friends in utter shock as their praises sprang from the assembled host. The others returned his look and exchanged stares and more blinks with one another while the crowd continued to cheer and applaud. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped with a wave of Aragorn's hand. What happened afterwards remained as a blur in the minds of the Four. They only clearly remembered something about Gandalf descending down on them, his brilliant cloak swirling out behind him, and ushering them away to the safe silence of their shared house.

That night Jack and Leigh were sitting out under the stars in the garden full of its returning bushes and flowers. High above them, the trees were regaining their regal foliage, and the stalks of the irises and lilies were bowing in the wind beneath them. Stone benches were set sporadically along the winding gravel path, and the two teenagers rested on one of these, watching the jewels of heaven kindle in the clear night. While Leigh sat in the usual manner one sits on benches, Jack leaned against the side with his harp resting on his drawn-up knees and his head tilted up to see the sky.

"It's almost like we're back in Rivendell," Leigh commented, bouncing her glance from plant to plant.

"Almost," Jack agreed.

With a sigh, Leigh flopped down along the length of the cold stone, watching a small bubbling fountain that fueled a slim stream that wound through the garden.

"It feels like we've come full circle," she wondered. "Like we're back to the beginning again."

"In a way," Jack replied. "But in another way, it will never be like it was back then. Things have become both more and less complicated. It depends on the area in life you are referring to. All I know is that I am deeply thankful to have a real bed again."

"Amen to that, brother," Leigh said, raising her arm.

Farther back along the path, a commotion broke out, and after a couple of seconds Merry and Pippin burst into view around a shrubby corner. Both had wild grins on their faces, and the two teenagers braced themselves for the storm.

"I just can't believe it!" Pippin cried enthusiastically.

"We can't believe it," Merry corrected him.

"You're almost royalty now!" Pippin exclaimed. "Do we have to bow or something every time we see you?"

"I certainly hope not!" Leigh yelped.

Jack laughed up at the stars and then brought his back down and faced the two giddy hobbits.

"Somehow I doubt Aragorn would put us in a position like that," Jack reassured them. "But it does mean that we will have an awfully hard time hiding for more than a handful of hours at a time."

"Oh, we can help you there," Merry grinned with a wink. "First we can raid the kitchens, and then we can run off to the nearest hidey-hole and stay there until we are all quite ready to present ourselves in public again."

"You don't think that the cooks will just hand over the snacks from now on, do you?" Leigh asked worriedly, rolling over onto her side so as to join in the conversation more easily.

"I doubt it," Jack chuckled.

"Oh, good," Leigh sighed, going back to her former position. "Just being handed the food takes all the fun out of the whole venture."

Jack smirked. Some things never changed.

"Why don't you two go bother Jaden and Maylin?" Jack asked.

"Been there," Maylin said, popping into sight around the corner.

"Done that," Jaden finished, following a step behind Maylin.

Together, the hobbits and Four sat down together on the sweet grass and spoke of all that had happened, and chattered about the futures of the individual members. The moon rose above them, and they talked long into the night, all of their pent up joy and excitement pouring out in a stream of babble. When at last they fell silent again and they had lied back to look up at the glittering skies, a thought dawned on Pippin.

"What are we to do now?" he asked aloud.

From where he lay a few feet away, Jack smiled and said, "Live, Pip. We're going to live now."

.O.O.O.

The day that Arwen and her escort were due to arrive dawned at long last over the glimmering city of Minas Tirith. Jaden had gone off to spend the day with Frodo and Sam, leaving the other members of the Four to fend for themselves in the way of entertainment.

Merry and Pippin both had been given leave for the day, and by midmorning, they were hungry, as hobbits often are. The elder one suggested that they raid the kitchens, and although they were not hungry Leigh, Maylin and Jack agreed to the diversion.

Together they tramped to the steamy section of the upper level where the cooking was done for the royals and guests of the king besides feast preparations. This day the entire section was alive with scurrying kitchen lads and floury-handed cooks and chefs rushing about in order to ready the extra food that would be needed for the guests arriving that evening and the feasting that would follow. Pastries were left unattended in large baskets and other goodies were left lying on tables and near exit sites. Quite simply, it was one of the best possible times to grab a few unnecessary tidbits. The hobbits were thrilled and quickly led the way into a narrow little back alley that led right by one of the main buildings where the kitchen-folk labored. There was a window set in the wall a few yards above the street, probably in an attempt to discourage would-be food snatchers. This was not the first time this particular group of thieves had come to this window; in fact, it was frequented by the young, ambitious, and usually hungry, troop gathered under it.

"Who's going up?" Maylin asked, placing her fists on her hips and looking at the two halflings.

"I will, I will!" Merry chirped, bouncing up and down and waving his hand.

"Righty then, on you get," Jack said, stooping his shoulders so that the tiny little hobbit could clamber onto his shoulders.

Once Merry was secure on his perch, Leigh and Maylin jointly boosted Jack up on their shoulders. Then they rose until they were on their tiptoes and Merry could slip in over the rim of the window and scramble inside. They had learned long ago that this was the best method when it came to pillaging the kitchen's extensive larders. The hobbits were so cute that they were the least likely to be punished or severely scolded for grabbing an afternoon or midmorning mouthful. A few times a servant of two had actually added to their captured booty.

"Ah," Leigh sighed as they waited for Merry to return to the window, "if only Ioreth could see us now: the newly declared adoptees of King Elessar, and here we are raiding the kitchens like street urchins."

"Half the time you look like a street urchin," Maylin sniffed. "I'll fix that hair of yours one of these days if it kills me."

"It'll kill one of us," Leigh mused, looking up towards the hole in the wall.

At long last Merry's curly-haired head popped back into sight and he began tossing down wonderful smelling bundles to the team gathered below. Suddenly, a fifth set of gloved hands joined the catchers, and the swivelled around to see none other than Boromir grinning impishly behind them.

"Hullo," Merry exclaimed from up above before he slid down to rest on Jack's shoulders and was then lowered to the ground.

"Pippin," Leigh moaned, "you were supposed to be keeping watch like a good little hobbit."

"I was hungry," Pippin squeaked in defense. "And besides, he won't rat on us, will you, Boromir?"

"Certainly not," the burly man laughed. "Good sport, kitchen-raiding. I used to come to this very window with Faramir when we were boys. The kitchen maids were about ready to gut and fry us, I think."

Just then, a cry broke out in the kitchen that went something along the lines of "Those dirty rascals have just snatched me pie!" with a few variables tossed in for good measure.

"Bogarts and hobgoblins," Leigh swore. "We'll never make it out of here with all this in our bare hands."

"Leave that to me," Boromir said with a twinkle in his eye. Before any of the miscreants could argue, the Steward of Gondor had swept up the treats and stuffed them securely under his voluminous cloak. "No one will question the Steward of Gondor," he winked, "and they certainly won't press him as to why he smells of pies and pastries. Meet me back at the house you share, in the gardens. We will be safe there." Then he whirled in his heavy cloak, which must have been awfully warm in the summer sun, and marched off with head held high through the pressing crowd of cooks and servants.

The motley crew waited for a minute or two and then exited their little alley. They were challenged almost immediately, but the cooks were unable to so much as scold them when no evidence of the missing pastries could be found on them. So it was with light steps and bright smiles that the victorious pillagers came to the secluded garden behind their tall house.

Boromir was waiting for them next to a bench on which was spread the various delights Merry had commandeered from the kitchens. Happily, the troop trotted towards him, but when they were a few yards away, Boromir held out his hand in a command to stop. The party came to a halt and frowned at the older man with puzzled frowns.

"I demand payment," he decreed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Help yourself," Merry said, waving towards the food.

"Actually," Boromir responded, "I was referring to the rights of Lady Leigh's company this afternoon, seeing as how you all have had her with you for all of these weeks."

"Aww," Leigh said, striding up to the Gondorian and giving him a happy little hug, "you don't have to threaten me for that, you know."

"Food first," Merry declared, marching up and grabbing a pastry. The others swiftly followed suit.

Jack and Maylin plopped down in the grass while Boromir and Leigh stuffed a few goods in a basket and went off for a scenic picnic by the overlook.

"Turtledoves," Jack snorted around a mouthful of pie. Maylin whacked him upside the head.

"Watch it," she advised. "I am also a turtledove."

"Trust me, we all know," Jack moaned loudly. This earned him another, harder, whack upside the head.

As Merry watched the goings on, Pippin took the opportunity to steal one of his tarts, and when Merry discovered this, a small war broke out, resulting in the abrupt departure of the two hobbits. Suddenly Jack and Maylin found themselves alone in the shady garden.

"And then there were two," Jack sighed.

They sat and enjoyed their trophies for a little while longer, and then Legolas appeared, having left Gimli when the Dwarf went off in pursuit of the quarreling hobbits. He swept Maylin away and then Jack was truly alone. For about five minutes he just sat there, staring down the path. Suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed up to the heavens. Without wasting more time, he leapt to his feet and ran inside to retrieve his harp.

.O.O.O.

The events that followed were as surreal and wonderful as they had been in the book. Sadly, only about four short paragraphs were dedicated to them. Evening descended and Arwen Undomiel came riding to the city's gates with her glorious entourage. To the thrill of more than one individual, Galadriel was among the many Elves that had come to bear witness to the birth of the age and the union between Man and Elf. However, what probably thrilled the Four the most was Glorfindel's presence. The fun, bright, bossy elf who had first stumbled across them in the wilderness was suddenly back in their lives against all odds. It was enough to make the girls at least literally jump for joy.

The moment Glorfindel swung down from his horse, he was half tackled by three very happy young ladies. In the time he had been with them, he had learned to read them rather well, and merely laughed at the happy hysterics of his far younger friends.

"I see you have a proper sword," he commented, nodding at Nolemacil.

Leigh raised her head and smirked wildly. "Aye," she agreed. "Maybe now I'd stand a better chance against your own Elvin blade."

"Perhaps," the elf lord laughed. Then he turned to the others, taking time to marvel at and examine Jack's harp and inquire after his skills with the instrument. Maylin got a hug, and Glorfindel listened fondly as she and the others told him of her impending 'official' engagement to Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood. Jaden came last of all, and for her Glorfindel had only a few words.

"You have grown," he acknowledged, "though I hope that the child I knew is still buried somewhere within."

"She is," Jaden smiled.

"Then I am glad," Glorfindel bowed. Then, in a lighter mood, he looked around and asked if there were no plants in that city, and of course this set the Four off on an expedition to show him half the gardens in Minas Tirith. Much of the night was spent with their Elvin companion, and then it truly was as it had been in Rivendell.

.O.O.O.

The following morning, the Four found yet another shock awaiting them. Arwen requested that Jaden, Maylin and Leigh wait upon her during the ceremony (something like bridesmaids), and Aragorn asked for Jack in a similar manner. So once again they found themselves in a rushing swirl of rich fabrics and fine adornments.

Arwen was overjoyed to see the young strangers that she had met in Rivendell once more, and she greeted them as long absent friends.

"It is with great relief," Leigh said dramatically, "that I return the care of Aragorn to your capable hands. Thus you charged me the eve before we set out from Rivendell, and thus I hand him off to you, on the morning of your wedding."

Arwen laughed. "It is a most welcome burden, and I thank you for your good attentions."

"You are most welcome," Leigh replied.

"I suppose Aragorn or someone else has informed you that we are now the wards of King Elessar," Jaden said a bit nervously. Who knew how the elf would respond to suddenly having four rambunctious young people permanently tied to her and her husband with a silver rope?

"Ah, yes indeed, I have been told!" the elven princess exclaimed. It seemed that not even this awful news could dim her wedding day... "It gives me great joy to be thus connected with the three of you and your comrade, Jack. And from this day forward, the four of us shall be as sisters, for we are now all foreigners in a strange new land."

The wedding was beautiful in the true sense of the word, and every female member of the Four dreamily imagined her own wedding some day in the future.

Feasting filled the nights, and fluffy adventures filled the days. Time flew by quickly, and suddenly, it was nearly time for Frodo and Sam to depart. Plans were laid down, and the Four began planning their immediate futures. Maylin's love story took up much of their attention. It had been decided that Legolas would return home to Mirkwood once the party escorting Frodo and Sam reached the Misty Mountains. He would follow the mountain chain north until he was back to his own lands, where he would announce his intentions towards Maylin. However, the Four, including Maylin, would continue on with Gandalf and the hobbits until they reached Bree. From there they would double back to Rivendell and backtrack along Legolas's general route to the Woodland Realm. That was when things would get interesting. They would undoubtedly return to Minas Tirith, Leigh would most likely do something rash if they didn't, and would most likely come back once Legolas had a host of elves gathered around him ready to rejuvenate the damaged woods and gardens of Gondor. Details were still foggy.

Then they departed and accompanied the escort of King Theoden as he was brought back to his own home, to be buried beside his forefathers. Leigh joked that there would be no one left to keep an eye on Gondor, seeing as how nearly every ruler in Middle-Earth rode in that entourage. Of course, this wasn't true at all, since her beloved Boromir was staying behind.

Many marvels passed before their young eyes, varying from the burial of a great king, to the engagement of the newly appointed Prince of Ithilien, a.k.a. Faramir, and Lady Eowyn of Rohan, to their old friend Treebeard. Of this last oddity, Jaden had previously had no meeting.

Thus, it was with great joy, gloating, teasing, and other friendly emotions that Leigh, Jack and Maylin introduced their last friend to the towering tree person.

"Another! Burarum," Treebeard boomed. "No forest or glade is safe with four such youths running amuck. But then, there would be less laughter, too. And less love, I am guessing. My blessing be on you then, little Cropped Leaves."

Leigh doubled over in her saddle at the new name. The Ent had been referring to Jaden's hair, her short, unusual hair. Hair was a human's version of foliage. Jaden didn't hear the end of it for quite some time, and not just from the other members of the Four.

Together, they promised to return some day with Legolas and Gimli to visit the great forest of Fangorn, and Maylin looked, much like Legolas, towards the forest looming beyond them with unveiled longing.

The other incident of note on their trip was the meeting of Saruman and Grima on their way towards the Shire, but only the Four knew that last bit. The Four spared no pity on the washed-up wizard.

"Hullo, again!" Jack called down cheerily from his horse. "We've had a lovely time just now, came through Isengard, wouldn't you know, and we saw an old friend that you might know there, Treebeard! Oh, and didn't you mention before something about our missing friend?" He pointed over his shoulder towards where Jaden sat on her horse. "Found her."

They journeyed on through the lush summer wilds, and it came at last time to part with the folk of Lothlorien. One night remained for them together, in the camp under the stars. The Four had actually seen only very little of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, but that night Galadriel sought them out ere she departed. First she addressed the whole, and then she spoke to each personally.

"The Four Wanderers have come to the end of the roaming," she said in an almost sad tone, then her eyes flicked over their eyes and a slight smile brushed her lips. "Or perhaps not. Your adventures do not end here. This world holds more for you, much more. You have come far, and accomplished much, but do not be deceived into thinking that your roles end here. More is to come, but you shall see this for yourselves." Then she turned first to Maylin.

"Maylin Cuceleb Silverbow," she said, turning to the young elf. "A hard road lies before you. In time, should fate be kind, you will face the death of your mortal friends who will fade and vanish while you remain young forever. You will either leave in the grey ships and sail to the West, or you will die an untimely death and be separated from your beloved forever. Such is our lot in life, our blessing and our curse. Do not let eternity woo you so that you forget the present, for today will fly by, and tomorrow will always be waiting for you." Next she turned to Jack.

"Jack Lindelaurie Goldensinger," the elf queen greeted. "Your path is also one fraught with danger and the twisting affairs of the heart. An epic choice shall lie before you, but of that I shall say no more. Trust in your music, for it breathes with the air of Lorien the Fair, and it shall not fail you. Guard those you love well, and believe in the powers of love." Then she turned to Leigh.

"Ah, Leigh Megiliel Sword Daughter, bearer of Nolemacil," she smiled. "Time has changed you much, yet the youth who stood before me in my own home still feeds your fiery spirit. A great many adventures await you, and not all of them with these others. Seek for the thing that is lost which you never had. Remember your own actions, and beware of hypocrisy. Ah, I have said too much," she smiled mischievously and placed her first two fingers over her lips to silence herself. "May the stars guide you, daughter of Men." Last of all, she came to Jaden.

"Jaden Gristdur Darkcleaver, bearer of the One Ring," Galadriel said. "For you there can be little advice, for your road is convoluted and ever changing. Your life will be an epic recorded beside those of the ancient ones of my kin. No more can I say to you, but I give you my blessing, and may the stars shine on the end of your road." And then the mysterious queen left them as suddenly as she had appeared.

.O.O.O.

Their stay in Rivendell was shorter than they would have liked, but Frodo and Sam were anxious to return home, and they had every intention of seeing Barliman Butterbur before they even thought of calling an end to their adventures. Bilbo was delighted to see them, and bid Jaden keep her precious journal when she offered it to him. "I'm too old to do much with it anyway," he had argued. And so Jaden kept her revered book, and the pages continued to be filled with the adventures of the Four, and plenty of room was left behind them for the exciting times yet to come.

When at last they arrived in Bree, Butterbur did not disappoint them. Instead he blubbered and looked at them in as much trepidation and confusion as they had hoped for. At the same time, though, they encouraged him on and made sure to pay their compliments to the beer, which they hadn't drunk due to previous experiences. After much cajoling, poking and prodding they managed to cajole Gandalf into staying on an extra day after the hobbits departed. They had to buy him more pipeweed as well as much more of Butterbur's infamous brew.

Frodo and Sam took Jaden aside to make their goodbyes, and Merry and Pippin nearly cried at being separated from their new friends. Only fervent promises of visits and meetings kept back the tears. The Four were honestly getting slightly beyond misty-eyed as well.

And so it was that they found themselves alone in a back room with Gandalf, breathing in his noxious pipe-smoke and savoring the homey taste of the Prancing Pony's fine supper. Leigh sat with her bare feet resting on the table while Jack plucked idly at his harp. On the other side of the room, Jaden was curled up with her journal, completely and utterly absorbed. Maylin was gazing out the window fondly at the rain pouring down outside. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace, and candles stood like glowing sentinels all around the cozy room.

"And what will the four of you do now?" Gandalf asked around his pipe, eyeing them all with his mysteriously merry eyes.

"We have fulfilled our prophecy," Jack said.

"And now we must live our legacy," Jaden finished.

End of Prophecy

ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!!!!! SUPER IMPORTANT!!!!!!! READ WHAT IS WRITTEN BELOW!

The Four have survived the War of the Ring, but now a new threat looms on the horizon. A minor change has created major consequences, and now Jaden, Leigh, Maylin and Jack will be forced to face a new menace. Life goes on: children are born, battles are fought, and love blooms. Featuring your favorite characters, and introducing Connor, Elhiril, and Cassidy.

They have fulfilled their Prophecy, now they must live... their Legacy.

Legacy: a sequel to the epic fanfiction Prophecy. Coming soon!

A/N: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! Say Legacy if you have read my author's notes and the little preview thingy! Thanks again to everyone who has helped make this fic wonderful!

Namarie,

Until We Meet Again,

Narnian Sprite


	61. Legacy

Disclaimer: Um... I don't own this. No idea what made you think I did, but I don't.

A/N: I know, Prophecy is over, but I made something super cool to promote Legacy! Go to youtube, because ffn is refusing to let me post a working link, even with the spaces put in. GRrr. Try looking up LOTR, fanfiction and/or Legacy. It has all of those tags. It is worth the effort!!!! And, I put in an small bit from the second chapter... Here ya go!

At last, the began to near the kingdom of the Woodelves, and, once again, Maylin had lost all thought besides the desire to see a certain elven princeling again. Leigh couldn't resist a bit of nagging, and soon the two oldest members of the Four were bickering away as they often did at such times. Even Jaden's face grew a bit brighter, and Jack pestered Glorfindel for more elven songs. The road was smooth and even, so the horses needed hardly any minding, leaving the youths free to pester, taunt, and chat without fear of tumbling off of their mounts.

Suddenly, a strange scent blew over them from around the corner, and the horses began to rear and scream.

"Spiders!" Glorfindel swore. "Stay on the path! They cannot step foot on it, that is why there are no webs blocking the road. Keep your horses under control!"

His warning came to late, and Jaden's horse bolted into the trees to the left. Maylin's horse threw her and she sailed to the ground, landing heavily on her side. As she picked herself up from the dust and leaves, she caught sight of something in the woods and shrieked.

The others whipped their heads around to see what was so alarming, and shouted in dismay at the heavy bodies skittering after Jaden and her horse, held up by eight slender, knobby, black legs. Before they could do much more than blink, the horrific spiders were gone, leaving only shaking branches and waving limbs in their wake.


End file.
